


The Broken Dart

by OnlyStraightForJongup



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Betrayal, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Characters, Mystery, Platonic Relationships, Skydive au, Trust, one shot au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-12-29 20:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 128,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyStraightForJongup/pseuds/OnlyStraightForJongup
Summary: Soft, sweater-clad Youngjae never fit the description that made the news, but he still loses his apartment over it. Now on the streets and caught in a web of deceptive power games, he’s forced to acclimate.Himchan calls them family; Daehyun laughs and calls them co-workers. Jongup holds a knife to Youngjae’s throat even as he insists Daehyun can’t be trusted. Everyone’s eyes follow Junhong a little too closely, and Yongguk’s lighter taps out an anxious rhythm.Youngjae may be in over his head, but he’s always been adaptable.





	1. Pride and Denial

Pride or curiosity. Youngjae couldn’t decide which he hated more for his current situation, but he sure blamed both. Soaked and trembling as he walked down unfamiliar streets, he refused to think much about either. Even so, thoughts about his supposed pride couldn’t help but leak through the walls in his brain as the rain plastered his dark hair against his forehead. 

At least he wasn’t questioning his intelligence; he’d accepted he was a dumbass months ago. 

Self-hate aside, Youngjae only wished it would stop raining. The suffocating humidity only made him long to take his dripping clothes off even more, but he had nowhere to put his thin sweater if he pulled it off. Carrying the wet clothes through a thunderstorm sounded less appealing than just wearing them. 

He’d been walking for most of the day, clutching his phone tight in his hand as its battery dropped. For the past hour, he’d experienced an interesting phenomenon: the lower his battery went, the higher his anxiety became. Now he couldn’t stop trembling, teeth chattering as though to only make the hanging heat ironic. 

Youngjae clutched his phone tight, letting his oversized sweater hang over his hands to keep the phone dry. He could put the phone in his backpack, which was thankfully waterproof, but peeking at the map and ensuring he walked the right direction kept his heart from pounding out of his chest. Even so, he couldn’t stop his fingers from tapping anxiously on his jeans, and tears threatened to burn tracks down his face.

A sob built up in his chest, and he swallowed hard, glancing around him and hoping no one asked what a kid like him was doing in a place like this. Or maybe he wanted them to ask? Someone please help him? Pride? What pride? 

He shook his head – too late for that. The clouds had darkened the streets around him, and the glare of streetlights reflected from the wet concrete. Youngjae couldn’t see anyone else on the streets. Of course not – who in their goddamn right mind would walk around in a fucking thunderstorm?

The squish of water in his shoes became a routine hours ago, and he scoffed when he recalled his anger at first stepping in a puddle. Youngjae wished they’d allowed him to keep his student ID. Every hill he reached had become a small mountain placed by whatever deity just to spite him.

He could have ridden a university bus if he still had his ID, but then again if he still had that then he wouldn’t have needed to get here at all. Youngjae had to swallow the threatening sob again at the vortex of thoughts that particular track threw him into.

He shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead from the rough motion. His fingers brushed it off, but it only fell back down and plastered there again. It had been nearly two months. He needed to get over it.

Youngjae thought he had been over it, but it seemed this new development threw him back into it. Or maybe that ever-friendly denial had sat on his shoulders for even longer than he thought. Well, too bad for it. He didn’t have time for any self-pity. 

Youngjae bit the inside of his cheek hard as tears continued to burn in his eyes. The pain only made them run down his face, and somehow, he felt the tears travel down his face as though there wasn’t also rain dripping down it.

Okay, maybe he had a little time for self-pity.

Youngjae glanced at the map again, happy to see he’d headed in the right direction. His stomach rumbled as he finally made the last turn and spotted the soup kitchen’s ratty sign. Without a penny to his name and no food left in his apartment, he’d spent the entire day walking to find places that could help someone like him. 

Youngjae grimaced as he raised his arm to prod at the wet sweater, longing for a chance to get dry. Pride and curiosity may have caused his situation, but the months of denial didn’t help either, and right now he hated the denial most of all.

Maybe he’d have an umbrella if he hadn’t been such an idiot.

He hoped someone at the soup kitchen had a suggestion about where he could spend the night. Youngjae knew there were a couple homeless shelters in the area, but he also knew this wasn’t a place to walk around after dark. Glancing around the streets, darkened by the storm and the dropping sun, Youngjae wondered if he’d already broken that rule.

At least the rain seemed to chase off any other people in the area. He walked on the middle of the road, eyeing the alleys for people who wanted to harm him. At least this way if someone jumped from an alley, he had a fighting chance – and by fighting chance, he meant he may be able to run away.

Wearing his favorite sweater now, as it soaked against his skin and weighed him down, seemed comically ironic. And by comical, he meant horribly tragic. Good thing Yoo Youngjae didn’t cry easily because a lesser man would be sobbing at this situation. No, of course it was only rain on his face. Trust him, he used to be a computer scientist, and everyone knows they’re too boring to make up elaborate lies.

Apparently the university didn’t know that and thought computer scientists could mask huge plots and domestic terrorism behind soft, sweater-covered exteriors. Perhaps Youngjae would feel impressed by what they thought him capable of if it hadn’t destroyed his life.

So much changed for him in only a couple months. Youngjae didn’t know what to do other than live in the moment and survive the night.

He sighed in relief as he reached the soup kitchen, moving under the awning and joining a motley group of people also waiting for food in a garage-like room. Youngjae caught sight of a girl around his age wearing a blue shirt, which announced she worked with the soup kitchen. He approached her before the crowd could shift, clasping his hands together around his phone as he got closer.

“Excuse me?” he asked, biting at his lip as she turned around. She offered him a bright, pasted-on smile before frowning at his soaked clothes and hair. “Do – you know anywhere I could spend a night? Like a homeless shelter or?” He trailed off, shrugging. Pity grew in her eyes as she regarded him, and he compared his soaked, messy attire to her own neat uniform. The difference made him want to cringe.

“Oh my god,” she said, her widened eyes trailing up and down him. Youngjae would have thought she was more used to seeing people with high amounts of bad luck. “You’re Yoo Youngjae – the kid who hacked the university. Everyone’s talking about you.” She took a step away from him.

Oh, hey look more bad luck. He offered her a tight, close-lipped smile, hoping to brush the comment aside.

“Wonderful, thanks for reminding me.”

“No one knows why you did it!” she continued, her eyes bright as she tore into him. The fake smile dropped from his lips, and he sighed. “Were you trying to change grades? Or steal information? The University said it was a security issue, and then you got expelled so quick –” 

“Curiosity,” Youngjae said, shortly. “I thought I could. I was right. That’s the whole story.” She frowned at the lack of glamourous reasoning behind his actions. Youngjae rolled his eyes, fidgeting in front of her. “Look – do you know if –”

“They’ve all been full,” she said, jumping before she interrupted him as though she suddenly remembered she had a job to do. Youngjae sighed, tapping his fingers against his pants as he thought. “There’s a chance but it's not likely." She looked apologetic. Wow, he hated pity.

He nodded. With another look at her, as though he hoped to find something more helpful in the volunteer, he paused then turned away, getting in line for food.

“Wait – if you want to eat with someone, you can join me.” the girl smiled at him. “I’m sure it’s been lonely ever since –”

“No thanks,” Youngjae said, turning away. She huffed at his stony rejection, and he rolled his eyes. The girl wanted more information from him about what happened, and he wasn’t about to fuel more rumors about him.

Youngjae watched rumors and guesses tear his life apart. The last thing he needed to do was add more to the cesspool of stupid curiosity. It’s amazing how isolated he’d ended up when he most needed help, but hey, that’s what getting called a domestic terrorist does to one’s reputation.

Youngjae thanked the man who gave him soup, and the man offered him a sympathetic smile, which he struggled to return. He closed his eyes for a beat, tossing the memories of friends and family from his head. The guy scooped a generous amount into a dish for him, and the smell alone made Youngjae relax his shoulders. At least something went okay today. He could figure out a place to stay after he ate.

The soup didn’t taste all that great, but Youngjae wasn’t complaining. He didn’t even know what kind of soup he was eating, but he ate it even though the excess warmth only made the humidity more formidable. 

“What brings you here, son?” Youngjae started at the voice, glancing up to see a man who stood several inches taller than him looking down with a concerned frown. He had a shopping cart filled with plastic bags beside him. “You don’t seem to belong here.”

Youngjae glanced around, biting his lip because the man was another homeless person, and while he had no money on him, he really didn’t want the man to take his backpack. It held all his belongings in it. 

The man raised a grey-speckled eyebrow as he hesitated.

“I was hungry,” he said finally, gesturing towards the soup. The man nodded, pursing his lips.

“You shouldn’t stay in these parts,” he said. “They’re not too fond of new people here.”

“Who?” Youngjae asked, his heart beating faster as he recognized a warning. The man shook his head and didn’t answer the question. Great. That was a good sign.

“Just – be careful, son. It’s easy to tell you’re not used to this.” He raised a large hand to gesture around them, encompassing the entire area. Youngjae nodded, thanking him for the warning. He glanced around, his worry about the other people around him growing.

Youngjae didn’t have time to walk anywhere far before dark, but he could make it to the homeless shelter before the sun disappeared entirely. He pulled out his phone, searching the address and wincing at his phone’s charge. If he were lucky, the shelter would have an available outlet for him. Otherwise, he’d have to find a library in the morning or something like that.

He slid his phone back into his sleeve, ignoring how at this point it didn’t help much. At least he wouldn’t get cold. The humidity was a bitch, but he preferred the heavy heat to freezing to death. 

Youngjae sighed, heading towards the shelter. The rain had slowed, falling to a drizzle, but the sun remained trapped behind heavy clouds. He squinted through the dark roads, the dim light cast by streetlights only casting long shadows and making the darkness more prominent. 

He clenched his free hand into a fist as he headed towards the shelter, hoping against hope he’d find an open bed. Youngjae walked in the middle of the road as the buildings surrounding him grew even more shoddy. He glanced around him, eyeing each alley in the event someone lurked there.

By walking in the middle, he at least had the possibility of escaping if someone ran at him. Youngjae didn’t want to think about how the probability was still low for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he ran anywhere, let alone had to outrun anyone. Attempting to remember only brought a grimace and bad memories of high school gym classes to him. 

At this point, the only real light came from the streetlamps, and he thanked whatever deity cared for the little amount of light he did have. Youngjae didn’t want to imagine spending the night on these streets, but a small warning caught in the back of his brain told him he probably should think about that.

If the homeless shelter already filled up, then that’s exactly what he planned to do. 

Youngjae glanced at his phone, squinting as the bright light destroyed his eyes’ adjustment to the darkness. He only needed to walk another block. The wind blew, stirring up trash on the streets and causing a paper bag to fly across his path. Youngjae shivered, even though it wasn’t cold, imagining faces and people lurking in the darkness.

The rain muffled sounds, and Youngjae glanced behind him, realizing he hadn’t watched to see if anyone followed him. No one. The dark streets hung with a heavy silence, broken only by the dropping rain and Youngjae’s steps.

He sped up, walking faster as the night seemed to grow more eerie by the minute. The shelter’s large sign stood out to him, and he sighed with relief, pushing open the door to see a small counter with a tall man standing behind it.

He frowned as he saw Youngjae, taking in his soaked clothes and drowned-rat appearance.

“Sorry, kid,” he said. “We can’t take any more tonight.” Youngjae froze, his eyebrows drawing together and his heart jolting as the words registered. His breath caught in his throat, and he nodded, once, twice, a couple times as he thought about his options.

“Is there anywhere else -?” he pressed, hoping the man could help. From the man’s sympathetic frown, Youngjae figured he wished he could help too, but he shook his head.

“Nowhere you can walk to.” His voice sounded gentle, and Youngjae looked away, wishing everyone would stop pitying him, especially because the pity generally meant they couldn’t help him. He bit at his lip, nodding again and not trusting himself to maintain his composure much longer, so he turned and left as quickly as he had come.

Youngjae’s body trembled as he stood outside, leaning against the bricks. He bit at his lip, chewing on it until it began to hurt as he considered different possibilities. Of course, he really only had one possibility. 

He had to spend the night somewhere, and he was stuck in a bad area. The best he could do was find a corner that looked relatively safe and hope nothing happened. Youngjae sighed, rubbing a hand across his face and through his hair. He could maybe find an area which was protected from the rain and stay there. 

He waited until he’d walked three blocks before feeling calm enough to start checking out the alleys, wondering which would make a good choice. Broken glass crunched under his feet, even though he still walked in the middle of the street. Boarded up windows loomed over him, and the area didn’t seem to look any better further down. 

Swallowing fear and wishing he could calm his heart, he turned down an alleyway at random, following it as it created a thin path protected by brick walls. Something crunched under his feet, and Youngjae glanced down, not able to make out what it was in the dark. As he got further from the lamps, the alley grew darker and darker, the walls shading the entire path with shadows.

Finally, it opened up a little, revealing a small, slightly brighter area with a couple dumpsters and a small overhang. Youngjae sighed with relief at the sight, his eyes finding a weak light on one of the buildings. This area seemed better than most. The dumpsters didn’t even smell too bad. Hell, they probably smelled better than he did, considering his soaked clothes and sweaty body.

He moved behind one, choosing a spot which hid him from the main walkway but allowed him to peek out in case it proved necessary. 

Sinking to the ground, he leaned against his backpack and closed his eyes. The world seemed to spin as he closed them, his mind struggling to keep up with his current situation. Youngjae had come so far in only a day. Last night, he slept in the same bed he’d spent the last two years in. Too bad he couldn’t pay for it anymore.

The thought of how much changed in only about twelve hours made him tremble, and he pressed a hand against the dirty ground to try and stabilize himself. The feeling of something hard and long under his fingers made Youngjae frown, and he opened his eyes to look at it. In the dim light, he barely made out a needle, and the sight of it caused his heart to lurch and nausea to rise in his stomach.

He raised a hand to his face, whether to cover his eyes so as to no longer see the syringe or to cover his mouth to keep himself quiet, Youngjae didn’t know. A sob rose in his throat, and this time he couldn’t push it down. Tears trailed down his face as the gravity of his situation sunk in. Youngjae should call his parents, tell them everything. He could deal with their disappointment better than he could survive this place with these people.

That morning, he’d believed his pride stopped him from calling his parents after what they said to him once they’d heard of his expulsion and seen him in the news. Now, sobbing and dirty behind a dumpster, he didn’t feel all that proud, but he still couldn’t call them.

It terrified him to think about whether they would answer his call. 

Youngjae pulled his legs in closer, looping his arms around them so he shrank as small as possible. The dim light created long shadows, and the idea of other people out there, moving through the darkness, only made him sob harder.

He rested his head against his knees, wiping snot onto his pants and definitely drooling, but at this point Youngjae figured it didn’t matter anymore. If anyone deserved a breakdown, it was him. He grew more tired as he became more upset, finally falling into a fitful, exhausted sleep with his head against his knees.

He hadn’t slept for long when a voice woke him up. Youngjae jolted at the sound, his neck cracking painfully as he moved, causing him to let out a loud gasp before he could help it. He slapped his hand across his mouth, squeaking against it as a loud laugh reached his ears.

“Himchan was so pissed.” the voice said, small chuckles accentuating his words. “I can’t believe he cared that much.”

“I doubt he does, but you still shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” The man scoffed, and Youngjae peeked around the dumpster as the two got closer. He couldn’t yet see them. “It was a shit job with a shitty pay so when the guy tried to double-cross us-” Youngjae could imagine him shrugging, and he swallowed hard, wondering what the stranger did.

“He still was one of his main informants.” The other speaker had a quieter, calmer voice than the first. “Hyung trusted him.”

“Himchan’s an idiot if he trusted that guy.” Youngjae got a glimpse of the two as they walked out and then nearly whimpered when they stopped in front of the dumpster. Youngjae couldn’t move low enough to see the taller man’s face, but his huge stature was enough to make him intimidating. The smaller man wasn’t much better with his more solid build and sharp face. As Youngjae watched, he ran a hand through his brown hair, the motion flipping some of it to the side.

He didn’t dare look for more than a second, so he leaned back, resting against his backpack and gulping in a couple breaths to try and calm his heart. Youngjae realized the rain had stopped and the moonlight brightened the area a little more.

“He’s got his reasons. We should trust his judgement.” The smaller, angrier man almost growled at the calm words. “You threatened him, Jongup,” the taller man said, an incredulous note entering his almost-emotionless voice.

“I shouldn’t’ve done that,” Jongup admitted, a little regret seeping into his voice. “But still –” The anger returned. “- I don’t know how Himchan could trust someone like that. He betrayed us!”

“We didn’t know the whole story, and you killed him before we found out.” 

A sob ripped out of Youngjae as he heard Jongup had killed someone, and though his hand muffled the sound, it still sounded loud considering the relative silence. Youngjae froze, and the men stopped speaking. His heart pounded in his chest, and he waited for a long minute before finally peeking his head out from the side of the dumpster, hoping to see where the men had gone.

Instead, he moved straight into Jongup’s gaze, meeting his narrowed eyes. Youngjae gasped, propelling himself backward until he hit the bricks behind him.

“Get out here,” Jongup said, his voice quiet but commanding. Youngjae shivered and another sob threated to burst out of him. Nothing happened for a minute, then Jongup spoke again. “If you make me come back there, I will drag you out in pieces.”

This time, his words did cause Youngjae to let out a sob, and he crawled out on limbs that refused to listen to him. He stood, shying away from Jongup and trying to stay where he could keep both of them in his sights.

Youngjae had left his backpack behind the dumpster, but even so, he debated running for it. He knew just by looking at his two attackers that he’d have no chance of outrunning them though.

“Why are you here?” Though Jongup had Youngjae’s attention, he couldn’t help but glance towards the taller one, who now leaned against the wall, a handgun resting in his hand as though that was casual. Youngjae took a moment to glance at his face, meeting dark eyes with deep bags under them. While Youngjae hesitated, Jongup stepped closer, and Youngjae caught the glint of a large knife in his belt.

He leaned further back, raising his hands in surrender. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out as a squeak. “I just needed a place to stay for the night.”

“And you just happened to choose here?” For as calm as the taller one had sounded before, his voice had become sharp and as demanding as Jongup’s. Youngjae nodded, eyes wide as he tried to appease them.

“I tried at the homeless shelter, but they’re out of space, so I just picked an alley, and now I’m here and –” Youngjae cut his own rambling off with a shake of his head as tears burned in his eyes. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Jongup laughed at his pleading, and the sound caused Youngjae’s stomach to drop and his legs to nearly give out. He whimpered, pressing back against the dumpster as Jongup pulled the knife from his belt and stepped closer to Youngjae.

Adrenaline pumped through him, but he knew better than to fight and running away wouldn’t work. The extra energy pumped in his heart, making him feel weak and betraying him as Jongup got closer.

“You’ve never been out here before, have you?” Jongup asked, chuckling and shaking his head. Youngjae shook his head, his eyes frozen on Jongup’s knife. His focus left him unaware that Jongup prepared to lunge forward, and the sudden arm against his neck shocked him as he slammed into the metal dumpster with a dull clang, choking as his legs buckled out under him. Only Jongup’s hard arm against his throat kept him from collapsing.

His hands clawed at Jongup’s arm, but it did no good. Jongup raised the knife and held it up in front of Youngjae’s face before resting it on his neck. Despite his inability to breath, Youngjae froze, recognizing the danger. The adrenaline within him turned to ice.

Jongup held the position without saying anything else, and Youngjae’s hands clenched around his arm, though he tried to not struggle in case he angered Jongup more.

Finally, Jongup backed off, releasing him. Youngjae collapsed to the ground, coughing as he landed on his hands and knees. Jongup laughed.

“You’re pathetic.” 

Youngjae could barely hear him over the sound of his hacking coughs and gasps. He tried to stand, knowing he needed to defend himself, but his head swam with dizziness from the lack of oxygen. Managing to get his feet under him, he stood, supporting himself against the dumpster. His eyes flickered between Jongup and the other man. Jongup stared at him, knife still in hand, while the taller man leaned against the wall, looking away as though bored.

“I should kill you now. You’re going to die soon anyway.” Something wild appeared in his eyes. Jongup gritted his teeth, and it disappeared. 

“How does someone like you even end up here?” the taller one asked. Youngjae looked over at him, seeing him lean against a wall and watch Youngjae with slight curiosity. He swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to tell them before deciding it’s in his own best interests to tell the truth.

“Had nowhere else to go.” His voice came out scratchy and cracked in the middle as he tried to speak. Still, Youngjae kept his eyes on Jongup as he spoke, identifying him as the more unpredictable of the two. 

Jongup scoffed, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward again, and Youngjae let out another small whimper, trying to hold back tears.

“You’re going to die out here,” Jongup told him, and Youngjae whimpered louder, trembling as Jongup reached out towards him. “Look at you. I should just kill you now. Make it easy.”

“Jongup,” the taller man said, waiting until Jongup turned to look at him to shake his head. “Hyung’s already unhappy with you. Don’t kill him.”

“He’s in our territory. We’d kill anyone else,” Jongup said, still facing away. Youngjae looked around as their attention moved off him, wishing he could think of something – anything - to protect him. Nothing.

“We’d kill a threat,” the other corrected. Jongup turned back to Youngjae, almost whipping back around. Youngjae flinched as the attention turned back to him.

“Look how scared he is,” Jongup said, eyes narrowed and breathing heavier from his anger. “Look!” Jongup held the knife closer to Youngjae, whose eyes snapped to it. He raised the knife to Youngjae’s neck, and Youngjae let out a small sob, tears finally spilling over from his eyes and nearly blinding him. He rubbed his hand across his face to clear his vision, even more terrified of not seeing Jongup than of seeing him.

“He’s not worth it. We’d have to dump his body, and he’d be all messy and heavy.”

Youngjae let out a shuddering breath as Jongup growled and stepped back. He relaxed, relief flooding through him as Jongup moved away. But Jongup wasn’t finished with him just yet. He lunged forward again, moving faster than Youngjae could comprehend. 

The pain appeared before Youngjae realized what happened. A trail of sharp fire echoed down his cheek. Youngjae gasped, throwing himself back against the dumpster as Jongup moved back again. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his face as Jongup laughed.

The laugh echoed through the alley, rising over Youngjae’s sobs. He waited until Youngjae calmed down and looked up to speak again. Youngjae trembled as the blood ran onto his sweater and through his fingers, smearing all over his face and dripping down his neck. He couldn’t meet Jongup’s eyes for more than a second before the terror forced him to look down.

“If we find you here again, I’ll kill you,” Jongup said, and then he turned and was gone, the taller man following him without another glance back.

They left Youngjae shaking and sobbing in the moonlight, huddled among the broken glass and trash. A bloodstain formed on his favorite sweater as he pressed trembling fingers against his cheek.


	2. To Be Of Use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’re going to make me work for you?” Youngjae’s whole form trembled, and his voice came out shaky from the sudden onset fear. 
> 
> “I’d prefer not to,” Yongguk said. “I don’t believe in forcing people out of fear. They’ll only betray us later.”
> 
> “But I don’t really have a choice?” Youngjae pushed down sharp anger which rose in him, bubbling to the surface. He didn’t know who he was angry at anymore. Maybe the entire world. Maybe himself. It didn’t matter.

Youngjae stared at his phone, watching the battery drop from five percent to four. He poked at his contacts with a trembling finger, leaving a small print of blood on the phone, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. 

For someone who had never had much for a social life, he had a ton of contacts. Youngjae scrolled past family and friends whom he hadn’t spoken to in months or years. Oh good. There was his contact for his high school math partner. Helpful. 

He had at least fifteen unopened text messages from friends since he’d isolated himself after everything happened. Youngjae couldn’t bear to open them, but staying with a friend appealed to him much more than his current situation.

The battery dropped to three percent. He couldn’t ask anyone to come get him in the middle of the night, and he didn’t even know what streets were nearby. In the morning, he’d call a friend. 

For now, Youngjae needed to move. Jongup’s threat hung heavy in his mind, and the throbbing of his cheek only accentuated Youngjae’s memory. 

He swallowed hard, trying to gather courage. Youngjae prodded at his face, wincing at the sharp pain and wishing he could wash the blood off his face. Small bits of it chipped off onto his fingers, and he wiped them on his already-stained sweater. 

With the thought of leaving the dumpsters came more shaking, but he’d ran out of tears a while ago. If he didn’t run into Jongup again, he’d be okay. Youngjae could manage tonight, and he’d figure things out in the morning. He could do this. 

He could find a library or somewhere to charge his phone in the morning, and then he’d contact his friends and see if any of them could help. His phone dropped to two percent, and he switched the screen off with a frown. 

Moving his face caused more of the blood to crack and his cheek to twinge. He slid out from behind the dumpster, dragging his backpack across the ground until he got into the main alleyway. Pausing he glanced around him, not hearing any sounds that hinted other people’s presence in the area. Good. He didn’t want to find out who else wandered the streets.

He headed in the opposite direction he’d seen Jongup and the other man go, heading further into the mess of alleyways and thin one-way streets.

Youngjae walked until he’d long forgotten the path he took. At first he tried to choose each turn carefully so he could remember, but as alleyways grew longer and the moon began to drop in the sky, he lost track of the path he followed and chose where to walk by random. Each corner brought the fear of someone waiting on the other side, but he hadn’t seen anyone, only spotting leftover trash left behind from whoever had been there before.

The isolation he’d grown used to made the sound of footsteps even more shocking when Youngjae heard them. A whimper slipped from his mouth; Jongup’s angry face ran through his mind. He shook his head at his own fear, trying to calm down and think rationally. 

Youngjae moved against one of walls, hoping whoever he heard would pass him and continue onward. The echo created by the high buildings made the sound move around, and Youngjae tried to watch both entrances so the stranger couldn’t surprise him. He didn’t dare move down either path, too afraid of meeting the stranger where he had even less room to get away.

His breath quickened as the sound grew louder. A man emerged from the darkness, his thin form pausing as he noticed Youngjae. He stopped before Youngjae, dark eyes looking him up and down. The man stared at his face, and Youngjae bit his lip, the stiffness of his face reminding him half his face had dried blood covering it. 

Youngjae leaned away, considering if he could outrun the man. He looked skinny, almost malnourished from what Youngjae could tell through his loose shirt. His eyes flickered to the open alleyway to his left.

“Don’t run,” the man said, as though he’d heard Youngjae’s thoughts. Considering how surreal everything felt to Youngjae’s tired mind, he wouldn’t be that surprised to run into a mind reader. “I won’t hurt you, and there’s worse people to run into out here.” Jongup flashed through Youngjae’s mind again, and he bit at his lip, knowing the man was telling the truth.

“Who are you?” Youngjae asked, his voice coming out quiet and hoarse and making him realize Jongup must have hurt his throat more than he’d realized.

The man stared at him, not answering for a long pause. Youngjae held his gaze, trying to calm down and stop from shaking. “Yongguk,” he said finally. “And you?”

“Yoo Youngjae,” Youngjae said. Yongguk’s sharp eyes trailed down his body, taking in his still-wet clothes and messy hair. Youngjae could feel the dried blood tightening on his face and hands, cracking as he spoke. He expected he looked like death, especially considering the stain on his sweater, which was large enough for him to see from the corner of his eye.

“What brings someone like you out here?” Yongguk asked. Youngjae realized too late how he’d never said his family name, but he didn’t dare ask for one.

“I just – I just needed a place to stay.” He echoed the same words he’d told Jongup.

“You couldn’t have chosen much worse,” Yongguk said. “But it seems you already know that.” He nodded his head towards Youngjae, who raised a hand to touch the cut on his cheek, scraping away some of the dried blood as the feeling of it under his fingers made him shiver. “Never been here before?”

Youngjae nodded. “Yeah, this… is new.” His voice still sounded hoarse, and he lowered his hand to his neck, fingers brushing against sensitive skin. Youngjae wondered if he had a visible bruise. Yongguk frowned, his eyes moving down with Youngjae’s hands.

“You don’t seem the type to end up out here.”

Youngjae shrugged, not trying to deny it or explain himself. Yongguk sighed, looking him up and down. Youngjae’s heart jumped into his throat as Yongguk paused, wondering what he was thinking.

“I can help you tonight. But only tonight, do you understand?” Youngjae nodded, his eyes wide as he stared at Yongguk, who spun around without another word, walking away. After a short hesitation, Youngjae scrambled after him, nearly jogging to keep up.

Yongguk led him down a couple turns, taking Youngjae through the streets with an easy confidence that Youngjae wished he could emulate. Finally, Yongguk turned to a building, an old office building with iron bars covering boarded windows. 

He opened the door, motioning Youngjae inside. Youngjae took a deep breath, his heart jumping as he entered the darkness. Yongguk pulled out a lighter, flicking it on to light a small area around them. 

“How did you end up here?” he asked as he led Youngjae through the old building. Youngjae bit at his lip, biting at it as he tried to figure out the answer to Yongguk’s question. A solid portion of Youngjae wanted to say he had no fucking clue.

“Didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Youngjae said, no doubt a better answer than the others running through his head. Yongguk glanced back at him, and Youngjae wished he could comprehend his expression. The lighter casted more shadows than illuminated anything, though Yongguk seemed comfortable navigating the place.

Yongguk hummed, a bored sound. His keen eyes contradicted his apparent disinterest, focusing on Youngjae’s face and holding his gaze.

“What?” Youngjae said finally, unsure why Yongguk spent so long watching him. His voice came out too high-pitched, and Yongguk only turned back around. Youngjae fiddled with the ends of his still-wet sweater.

He hesitated, letting Yongguk get a few steps further away. If he decided now to trust Yongguk, it could cost him his life. He could turn away and leave the building, but the darkness behind him only reminded him of more people lingering in the mess of dark streets and alleyways. 

He clenched his fists, feeling dried blood rub against his fingers and wow, he needed to wash his hands. Hopefully he could do that later, but for now he followed Yongguk again.

Yongguk looked back at him, waiting before he went through another doorway. Their eyes met, and Yongguk nodded at him. Youngjae got the feeling he’d realized why he’d hesitated before. Anxiety fluttered in his stomach at how much Yongguk noticed.

“Are you a student?” Yongguk said. “You’re not from around here.”

“No,” Youngjae said. “I came to Seoul for other reasons.” The last thing Youngjae needed was to talk about his expulsion. Something stiffened in Yongguk’s posture, and Youngjae realized how sketchy his answer sounded. He bit at his lip, not wanting Yongguk to think of him as a threat.

“And those brought you here?” He led Youngjae into a brighter room, and Youngjae looked around, spotting a large table with papers scattered across it.

This time Youngjae didn’t answer, shrugging as though Yongguk wasn’t facing the other direction. A sharp clicking made Youngjae flinch, and he glanced around, frowning when Yongguk didn’t react to it. 

It clicked again, and he realized it was Yongguk’s lighter, which he kept flicking open and closed at his side now that he didn’t need it to light anything up. The brighter light in the room illuminated the scars trailing up Yongguk’s arms.

They looked random, no doubt small wounds gathered over long years. Youngjae wondered again what kind of person he followed. 

Yongguk turned and stared at Youngjae, holding his eye as though he searched in them for something.

“Why are you in Seoul?” he repeated. His voice came out deeper, more commanding than before, and his lighter clicked at his side. Youngjae held up both his hands, taking a step away and nearly backing into the door.

“I live here, but I couldn’t pay for my apartment anymore and I wanted to stay at the homeless shelters around here but –” Youngjae cut himself off, taking a deep shuddering breath and trying to stop himself from rambling. “They’re full. So I’m here.”

“They’re always full. Most people know that.”

Youngjae shrugged, embarrassment glowing hot on his cheeks. He should have known that too – probably would have, if he hadn’t spent so long wrapped in denial. “I didn’t.”

“Or maybe you’re lying.” Yongguk raised an eyebrow as Youngjae jolted at his words. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your name? You’ve been all over the news. I’m surprised you’re not in prison with all the shit they had on you.”

“Nothing linked me to a crime,” Youngjae said, clipping his words. “I’m not a terrorist. Or a criminal.” He’d heard the accusations too many times in the past month to hold back his anger.

“I believe you,” Yongguk said. Youngjae’s anger evaporated, turning into confusion and making his eyebrows scrunch together. Yongguk’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, tilting his head to the side as he considered Youngjae. “They tend to call a lot of innocent people terrorists.”

Youngjae didn’t know about that. Yongguk’s wide smile made him bite at his lip and take another step away. “What?” He swallowed, wishing he had a better response.

“That’s what they usually call me too.” He grinned at Youngjae, who opened his mouth to respond only for the words to stick in his throat.

“Oh.” He managed to choke out a shaky response. 

“Don’t look so scared, kid,” Yongguk said. “It’s no more accurate for me than it was for you.” Youngjae nodded, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Yongguk was out here at all if he wasn’t a criminal.

“What did you do?” he asked, fidgeting with the arms of his sweater as he met Yongguk’s eyes. His expression didn’t change.

“That’s not important. I’m more interested in what you did. I heard about you being dangerous and not much else.” 

Youngjae wanted to protest, to make Yongguk explain and not avoid his questions, but he had no way to make that happen. They both knew it, and Yongguk’s expression challenged him to try.

Youngjae didn’t.

“I hacked the university server. Didn’t do anything to it, but I got in. That’s all.” Youngjae glared, but Yongguk didn’t seem to notice as he frowned, his eyebrows dropping on his face as he considered Youngjae’s crime.

“All of this for that?” He shook his head. “Tough luck, kid.” Youngjae glared harder, pissed at Yongguk’s pity.

“It was a security violation. I put others at risk by doing it.” He echoed the words spoken to him by the university’s board of disciplinary action. The words he never believed stuck in his throat, but he forced them through clenched teeth. “It was stupid.”

Those words were his, not the disciplinary board’s, but they sure as hell implied them several times over. Youngjae believed that one the first time he heard them suggest it. 

“If you say so. You’re a hacker then?”

“I’m a computer scientist,” Youngjae said, correcting him. Yongguk chuckled, grinning at him again. Youngjae decided he really disliked that smile as he grimaced back.

“Maybe we could use you.” Youngjae’s heart jumped, and he wondered again what exactly Yongguk did to get himself called a terrorist. He didn’t know anything about the man who offered to help him, and Youngjae hoped he hadn’t made the worst decision of his life in trusting him.

And by worst decision of his life, Youngjae meant a lot, considering a single decision took him from successful student to his current state.

“Use me for what?”

“Just to help us with some of the work we do,” Yongguk said. He motioned Youngjae towards the table, and he sat down, sliding a pile of poker chips away so he could rest his hands on the table. Yongguk sat on the opposite side of him.

“That’s really vague.” Youngjae knew he shouldn’t antagonize Yongguk, but if they were going to talk about Youngjae doing anything for him, he wanted all the details. 

Another door opened, and Youngjae flinched, moving to stand up and knocking his knees into the table as a man with short, cropped hair and serious eyes entered the room. He stopped when he saw Youngjae, immediately turning to Yongguk and raising an eyebrow.

“Found him outside,” Yongguk explained. “I offered to let him stay the night.”

“Night’s almost over,” the man said. “He should leave.” The man didn’t even look at Youngjae, instead focusing on Yongguk, who frowned.

“You know what I mean.” Yongguk spoke softer around the other man than with Youngjae, but he also relaxed around him.

“I know it’s a shit idea to bring a stranger here.” The harsh voice made Youngjae flinch away, biting his lip as he considered standing and trying to leave. The man scoffed at him. “Look at him – he knows nothing.”

Youngjae was getting a little tired of people telling him he knew nothing, but he figured he couldn’t argue. Maybe he was more tired of knowing nothing than of people rightly pointing it out to him.

“He’s a hacker,” Yongguk said. “Good at it too. We could use him.”

“Computer scientist,” Youngjae said under his breath, not correcting him loud enough for the new man to hear. Yongguk glanced sideways at him, and Youngjae glared until he looked back towards the other. 

After he looked away, Youngjae looked down at the table. His vision swam, and he slumped his shoulders, exhaustion pouring through him. Right. He hadn’t slept for over forty hours at this point. 

He needed it. Desperately. But right now he also needed to somehow make him seem nonthreatening. 

It was a little shocking the new man thought it was possible for Youngjae to be a threat, but hey, maybe the soaked clothes and mess of blood made him look dangerous. If that was the case, all Youngjae had to say was that it was his own blood all over him.

Concern created furrows on the man’s forehead. He sighed, and Youngjae noticed the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. “You can’t just bring people here.” Yongguk nodded before he finished speaking.

“I know that, Himchan,” Yongguk said. The man – Himchan – sighed again, his eyes finding Youngjae, who tried to look innocent, figuring it saved his life before when the tall man took pity on him. Himchan watched him for a prolonged minute before turning back to Yongguk. The two stared at each other, faces blank and silent. 

Youngjae wondered if they were somehow communicating, looking back and forth between the two until he realized how ridiculous he must look and stared at his hands instead.

“If he does anything, we’re killing him,” Himchan said, but his tone signaled his agreement with Youngjae staying. Yongguk nodded, accepting the terms. Youngjae’s heart sped up again at the thought of Himchan killing him, but heavy exhaustion pulled at his mind, and he found he’d rather take the chance. 

“Do you have dry clothes?” Yongguk asked. Himchan scoffed, moving off away from them.

“Once you’re done babysitting, I have info for you,” he said. Yongguk nodded again, still looking at Youngjae, whose face flushed as he nodded back, opening his backpack and pulling out a change of clothes. He pulled his soaked sweater off, a shiver going through his body as the wet material slid across his skin. 

Yongguk averted his eyes as Youngjae continued to change. He pulled off his t-shirt, glancing down at himself in the process. His entire torso screamed soft, from the way the tan skin of his chest looked several shades lighter than that of his arms to the slight roundness of his stomach. 

It all reminded Youngjae of how he spent most nights wrapped in a blanket and in front of his laptop. No wonder everyone knew immediately he wasn’t used to this life. 

He pulled a new shirt over his head, appreciating the soft, dry fabric against his skin. Youngjae began to change out of his pants, glancing at Yongguk’s back as he did. Yongguk had a gaunt form, but Youngjae could see the muscles in his arms, even with the loose sleeves of his t-shirt. 

The pain in Youngjae’s throat told him too much about Jongup’s strength, and even the tall one with Jongup had looked had some muscle, despite how skinny he’d looked. Youngjae knew he wasn’t a match for any of them. He pulled on dry pants, trying to evaluate his situation.

Yongguk was a little shady, at the very least, and now Youngjae had decided to trust him and sleep somewhere he provided, even though Himchan threatened to kill him.

Himchan. The name sounded weirdly familiar, and Youngjae couldn’t shake the feeling he’d heard it before. Either way, it didn’t matter – or at least sleep mattered a lot more.

“I’m done,” Youngjae said. Yongguk turned around just as Youngjae balled up his wet clothes, glancing around and wishing he could hang them somewhere. 

“You can hang those out to dry,” Yongguk said, as though he’d read Youngjae’s mind. He gestured towards a pipe running along the wall. Youngjae headed over with a quick thanks, hanging everything and leaving his soaked shoes with them. The bloodstain on his sweater made him wince, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

He hadn’t thought to bring an extra pair of shoes, so he walked in only socks, letting Yongguk lead him to a couch. 

Youngjae thanked him again, but Yongguk only smiled, gesturing him towards the couch and pointing out a bathroom. Youngjae should go and wash some of the blood off him, but he’d leave cleaning the wound out until the morning. Before he did anything though, he needed to ask Yongguk a question he should have asked a long time ago. 

“Why?” he asked. “Why help me?”

Yongguk shrugged.

“You needed it, and besides, I’m hoping you’ll make it worth it for me anyway.”

And then he walked away, as if he hadn’t just said something terrifying. Youngjae stared after him, considering pursuing him because he didn’t plan on working with anyone like Yongguk and needed to clarify that. But Youngjae also was exhausted, and he had no doubt Yongguk had some weapon on him.

Youngjae would rather not die tonight. In the morning, he could talk to them. But for now, he needed sleep more than anything else. Even though he should be terrified, even though he was possibly a prisoner now, Youngjae let sleep take over.

* * *

He awoke disoriented and confused. The lighting made Youngjae unsure of the time, and he groaned, rolling over and nearly falling off the couch. The near fall jolted him awake, and he opened his mouth to gasp, causing the blood on his face to crack and the cut to sting. 

His hand flew up to his face, poking the cut a little too hard and feeling fresh blood on it. His wide eyes took in the room, and memories flooded back to him.

“Good. You’re awake.” The voice startled him, causing him to jerk and gasp again. Youngjae spun around, seeing Yongguk standing there. He jumped to his feet, making his head swim and causing him to brace himself on the couch.

“I – yes,” Youngjae said, unsure. Had Yongguk been waiting for him to wake up? Youngjae spotted the table in the corner, which had a pile of papers scattered on it and a small desk lamp lighting the surface. At least he’d been working on something. That made it less creepy – though Yongguk generally seemed like a creepy guy.

“We need to talk.” Yongguk moved around the couch, waiting for Youngjae to sit down again before sitting down next to him. Youngjae rubbed his eyes, shaking his head to remove the grogginess from his system. “How good are you with computers?”

Youngjae shrugged. “Decent? I mean – what are you asking?” He tried to focus on the conversation, but now that Youngjae had rested, he finally focused on the sheer amount of blood still on his hands, and the sight made his stomach flop over. Youngjae shook his head again. He needed to focus on Yongguk, no matter how surreal and messy everything felt.

“Could you hack security cameras?” Yongguk leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands as he looked at Youngjae, who narrowed his eyes.

“Depends. Probably, but it depends on why you need them hacked.” Youngjae glared at Yongguk, who met his eyes. Despite Youngjae’s combative words, he stayed calm, even going so far as to keep a small smile stuck on his face. 

Youngjae refused to smile back, glaring at him. He wanted to make it clear he wouldn’t help Yongguk do illegal things. Youngjae didn’t really know what illegal things Yongguk could do, but he wasn’t helping him do them.

“We’re not bad people,” Yongguk said, a strange smile growing on his face. “We aren’t perfect, but we’re not bad either.”

“Explain.”

Yongguk chuckled. “Looks like you might have a spine after all.” Oh right. Yongguk was a criminal, and Youngjae just demanded for him to explain himself. Good. “There’s a lot of bad people out here – you know that, clearly. We help keep things in order.”

“You said you have a territory. You’re in a gang?” Youngjae didn’t plan on letting Yongguk pull him in with generalizations and a nice sugar-coat.

“Himchan and I work with a couple other people around here. I wouldn’t call us a gang. We do what we can to keep things clean.”

“So you’re some vigilante?” Youngjae tried to not sound too incredulous, he really did. Yongguk smiled wider at the term, his amused eyes meeting Youngjae’s as though Youngjae’s voice hadn’t come out disbelieving and dry.

“City’s a mess. Even you must know that, college boy. We can’t do all that much, but we take out who we can.”

“And by take out, you mean murder,” Youngjae said, folding his hands together so they’d stop trembling. “Don’t sugarcoat things if you want me to help.”

Yongguk tilted his head down at Youngjae’s words, clasping his hands together. When he looked up again, his entire body language changed. For the first time, he seemed dangerous to Youngjae. Eyes narrowed, and his face devoid of the accommodating air he’d had previously, Yongguk met Youngjae’s gaze. He didn’t look angry, but the expression still caused Youngjae to cringe backwards, losing the confidence he’d built around Yongguk.

“You need to remember it’s up to me whether you live or die.” His voice remained quiet, but Youngjae still felt his heart lurch. He wanted to stand and get away from Yongguk, but he forced himself to stay still. Yongguk no doubt had a weapon on him, and Youngjae didn’t plan on testing him.

“So you’re going to make me work for you?” Youngjae’s whole form trembled, and his voice came out shaky from the sudden onset fear. 

“I’d prefer not to,” Yongguk said. “I don’t believe in forcing people out of fear. They’ll only betray us later.”

“But I don’t really have a choice?” Youngjae pushed down sharp anger which rose in him, bubbling to the surface. He didn’t know who he was angry at anymore. Maybe the entire world. Maybe himself. It didn’t matter.

“You always have a choice.” Yongguk’s expression had softened as he spoke, and he once again looked like he wished to comfort Youngjae. 

He resisted the urge to tell Yongguk he didn’t have a choice because he knew damn well someone would kill him if he refused.

“We’re not bad people, Youngjae,” Yongguk said as he hesitated. “We’re a lot better than most out there, and you could learn a lot from us.” Youngjae wanted to protest he didn’t want to learn anything they could teach, but Yongguk’s words made sense to him.

He needed protection. In only a single night on the street, he’d nearly died. Youngjae couldn’t risk more out there, and at least this way he’d be safe from Jongup and the other man he’d run into. He raised a hand to his cheek, probing at the dried blood.

The cut would get infected or something if he went much longer without cleaning it.

“We can offer you a role in our team,” Yongguk continued. “You’d hack into any cameras we need, and in return, you have a place to stay and a team to work with.”

“I’ve never tried hacking into a camera,” Youngjae said, but he knew it couldn’t be more difficult than the university server. He fidgeted, rubbing his hands together as he waited for Yongguk’s response.

“I’m sure you can hack into anything we need. And you’d be doing good. We mostly take out drug rings and corrupt leaders.” Part of Youngjae wanted to scream at him that take out actually meant murder, but he couldn’t risk antagonizing Yongguk.

Youngjae took a deep breath, meeting Yongguk’s eyes. He bit at his lip, trying to consider his options. If he accepted this role, he’d receive safety in return. Plus, despite Yongguk’s insistence that he had a choice, Youngjae knew he didn’t know how to survive without someone’s help.

He had his phone, and his friends numbers, but could he bank on people he hadn’t spoken to in months coming to his aid? Youngjae couldn’t risk it. His partner from high school math couldn't help him now.

“Okay.”

Yongguk’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he nodded.

“Good. You won’t regret this, Youngjae.”

Youngjae nodded several times, trying to ignore how his heart sank in his chest. He needed protection. It made sense for him to do this. The thought of wandering the streets for another night terrified him, especially considering he had no idea where he even was anymore. 

Agreeing to help Yongguk and the others didn’t mean Youngjae had to do everything they said, and it wasn’t permanent. For now, Youngjae would do this. When he had more options, he could move on.

For that matter, when he had more options, he could call the damn police and get them all arrested.

Youngjae may not be the best person, but he knew he’d do the right thing when the situation changed. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his trembling body and looking away from Yongguk. His nails picked at the blood on his hands. 

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about men like Jongup anymore, but something told him he’d also gained a lot of additional danger in addition to the slight reprieve. Youngjae bit his lip, and when he gathered himself enough to look back up, Yongguk still stared at him, a small pleased smile on his face.

The look made Youngjae’s eyes sting with tears, and he forced them back, unwilling to cry in front of the man whose gang he’d joined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, thank you! I hope you have a nice day :) 
> 
> [ My Tumblr :) ](https://onlystraightforjongup.tumblr.com/)


	3. Investing Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the foggy, fearful memories rushed at him as he met Jongup’s eyes. His eyes were unremarkable, and they shouldn’t cause such a reaction, but whatever tightened Youngjae’s chest before now twisted hard and left him gasping for air.
> 
> A phantom fire ran through his cheek. Jongup’s arm, sitting still in his lap, pressed against Youngjae’s throat. He locked his jaw, clenching his teeth together to ground himself as the memories struck him.
> 
> Jongup’s loud, biting laugh split the room in much the same way his knife split Youngjae’s cheek.

Youngjae peered at his face in the old mirror. Moments ago, he’d dragged his hand across the cold surface, clearing the dust off so he could see his reflection. Leaning over the sink, his arms shook from the same overpowering exhaustion to which his pale face and the deep bags under his eyes owed their existence.

He worked his jaw, swallowing and trying to get rid of his sore throat. A bruise had blossomed on his neck from Jongup’s attack, and Youngjae flinched as he prodded the tender area with his fingers. Cupping some sink water in his hand, he drank a mouthful. The metallic taste slid down his throat and caused his mouth to twist into a grimace.

He continued to cup more water in his hands, now focusing on the dried blood on his face. 

Rubbing at the cut lightly enough to keep it from opening again, he washed the blood off it, leaning over the sink to avoid making a mess. The water stung, and he dug his nails into his other palm, gasping as he cleaned it. The cut was deeper than he first imagined, and Youngjae sighed as he realized it would take a couple weeks to heal.

The skin around it looked inflamed and red, but he could move his jaw without pain. Youngjae tried to smile and found it didn’t cause him pain, but when his face became a grimace, his skin tugged at the wound. He winced at the sting.

Great. Youngjae had a feeling he’d be grimacing a lot soon and smiling little. Looks like he’d have to learn how to handle the pain.

After he finished, he took a shower, enjoying the almost-hot water on his tired body. While shampooing his hair, one hand cupped to his cheek to protect it from the soap, it struck him as weird for an old office building to have a shower in its bathroom, but he accepted it as a good thing and left it at that.

Of course, there were more things for him to think about that he couldn’t dismiss so easily. He agreed to work with a gang. Youngjae, a straight A student with a love for coding, now worked with a gang, and Yongguk admitted they killed people. 

But if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t been that perfect student ever since he’d been expelled. That single, horrifying moment changed him, and now his situation had changed in another violent, harsh way. 

It happened all too fast. A sick feeling floated through Youngjae’s stomach, and somehow only the pounding of his heart in his injured cheek felt real. His memories of Jongup hung heavy in his mind, but as if he’d wrapped them in gauze, he felt distanced from them, and they looked fuzzy and incomplete. It felt like it happened years ago, not hours ago. 

Youngjae could recall the fear; hell, the recollection still caused his heart to pick up its pace in his chest. But the details? He'd lost them somewhere along the way. Sighing, he ran a hand through his soaked hair. It didn’t matter. 

Even with his spotty memory, Youngjae remembered his conversation with Yongguk earlier that day all too clearly. 

In a couple hours – less than that? Youngjae didn’t know – he’d meet the rest of Yongguk’s gang. He had no idea how many people that entailed or what they’d act like, but he got the feeling this meeting wouldn’t go over well.

Already, the gang knew Youngjae didn’t know anything, and Himchan, the only other member he’d met so far, certainly hadn’t shown him any love. Youngjae sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. The movement made the water strike his injured cheek as though the wound was a bullseye, and he winced, pulling away to calm the sting. 

He needed to keep everything in perspective when he did this. Youngjae needed to slow down and think before he did anything. 

If he had learned anything in the past couple months, it was that just because he could do something, didn’t mean he should.

Youngjae tried to imagine what a meeting between gang members would look like, but he could only picture faces trapped in shadows, with guns and - and alcohol or stuff like that. Actually – Youngjae was ninety percent sure he was picturing a scene from an overly dramatic movie he’d watched a few weeks ago. 

He had no idea what to expect, but he knew he'd meet real people, and even Yongguk had come off as somewhat friendly and accommodating. Yongguk had rationalized the gang’s crimes, and even if that’s what the others did, Youngjae refused to do the same.

Even if he helped the gang, he wouldn’t allow himself to pretend they were doing good things.

Could he really help them? Youngjae got his first taste of what danger feels like yesterday. A man like Jongup could kill him without even thinking about it, and now Youngjae agreed to help Yongguk. 

Yongguk said they focus on the people who do bad things in the area. Jongup and the other tall man were no doubt two of those people – ruthless, deadly criminals within Seoul who didn’t regard human lives as important. If Yongguk expected him to go against people like that, Youngjae wouldn’t survive for long.

He had to trust Yongguk knew all of that. Yongguk wouldn’t throw him into a situation with a man like Jongup and expect him to handle it. If Youngjae could expect anything from this gang, it was that they wouldn’t overestimate his abilities. 

Of course, there always was the chance they’d find him expendable and not care whether he lived or died, but with Yongguk’s insistence about the gang’s goodness, Youngjae doubted that would happen. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t happen. 

Youngjae forced himself to stop before he could consider the gang’s morality.

He rubbed his wet hair, trying to make it dry quicker before getting dressed and staring into the now-fogged mirror. The shower made him feel better, and Youngjae looked better too with the dirt off his face. The hot water had cleaned his cut the rest of the way, leaving it red and obvious on his face.

He wondered if the gang would think he’d been in a fight or if they’d assume the correct scenario. Then again, who was he kidding? There’s no way a gang would look at him and think he could defend himself. Echoes of old friends making long-dead, friendly jokes about his physical weakness rebounded in his head, and he recalled his laughter. 

Said laughter mocked him more now than ever in the past.

Youngjae couldn’t do anything to hide the wound. It’s not like he could put a Band-Aid on it. With that thought came the mental picture of himself meeting a violent, murderous gang with a large Band-Aid covering half his face. The image made him giggle, and then he imagined it bright pink and with Kumamon on it and laughed even harder.

The sound that came from his lips sounded hysterical and more terrified than amused, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Youngjae called that an improvement.

He gathered his things into his backpack again and left the bathroom. No doubt Yongguk would return soon. Youngjae glanced at his phone, which he’d charged that morning. His fingers shook too much for him to fiddle with it much. He began to pace the room, rubbing his palms on his jeans. 

Youngjae had only walked the length of the room a couple times before Yongguk entered it. He stood in the doorway, watching Youngjae, who froze under his gaze. Youngjae’s eyes widened, and he stared at Yongguk, his heart leaping into his throat.

“Nervous?” Yongguk asked, raising an eyebrow at Youngjae’s awkward positioning. Heat rose on Youngjae’s face as he realized he’d successfully done his best imitation of a deer in the headlights.

“I – yeah.” Youngjae didn’t know what else to say. He scanned Yongguk, not sure what he looked for but taking in his worn, sleeveless shirt and oh. That – that was a gun strapped to his side. 

The sight of it triggered Youngjae’s adrenaline even more than the sight of Yongguk himself, and his overworked adrenal gland forced him to shift on his feet. He took a deep breath to calm down, staring at the gun and nodding a couple times. 

Maybe his perception of gang members – guns, shadows and alcohol – wasn’t as far off as he first thought. Guns? Check.

Yongguk didn’t give him any words of encouragement. In fact, he didn’t say anything, only nodding and motioning Youngjae through the door he’d come through only a minute before. Youngjae obeyed, following Yongguk.

“I told them to expect you,” Yongguk said. “This shouldn’t go too bad.” Now Youngjae didn’t respond, hating how Yongguk didn’t promise him anything. Yongguk led him into a bright room with a large table pushed to the side. The layout of the room kept most of the table out of his line of vision but he could see people sitting at the chairs, glancing up as the door opened. 

“So you’re going through with this then?” Himchan sat at the end of the table, the only one immediately visible to Youngjae. His eyes ran over Youngjae, scanning him. Whatever he looked for, he didn’t like what he found, shaking his head and looking away. Yongguk nodded, and he stepped further in the room, taking a seat next to Himchan. 

He poured himself a drink, acting casual and as though Youngjae wasn’t still cowering near the door. Alcohol? Check.

Only the garish lighting of the room broke his original ideas about what a gang meeting is like. No shadows. An absurd wish to laugh tried to filter through his consciousness. He shoved it away.

Youngjae jerked as he realized how long he’d waited to follow Yongguk, moving towards the table. He got closer and raised his eyes to scan the people at the table.

It only took seeing the first for him to realize how horrible of a decision he’d made.

The tall man from the alley had a small smirk on his face, but once again, his attention seemed fleeting. He took amusement in Youngjae’s clear terror before looking next to him and nudging the man beside him with a chuckle. 

Youngjae’s chest tightened, and he took the smallest of wheezed breaths as he forced his unwilling muscles to turn his head. Jongup. He’d known what to expect since he saw the tall man with his boyish face, but the affirmation made him stumble back a step. His legs shook under him. 

All the foggy, fearful memories rushed at him as he met Jongup’s eyes. His eyes were unremarkable, and they shouldn’t cause such a reaction, but whatever tightened Youngjae’s chest before now twisted hard and left him gasping for air.

A phantom fire ran through his cheek. Jongup’s arm, sitting still in his lap, pressed against Youngjae’s throat. He locked his jaw, clenching his teeth together to ground himself as the memories struck him.

Jongup’s loud, biting laugh split the room in much the same way his knife split Youngjae’s cheek.

“I knew it’d be good when Yongguk said he had a new kid, but I didn’t expect you.” Cold. Threatening. Jongup’s voice hadn’t changed since the alley, and Youngjae could almost feel his breath hitting Youngjae’s face as Jongup held a knife to his throat.

“You attacked him?” Yongguk said, frowning at Jongup. The new voice made Youngjae snap out of the memory, and he forced himself to take a step forward on trembling legs. He moved his eyes off Jongup, and the last man at the table met his eyes with a small smile. 

The man nodded at him then tilted his head towards the empty seat on his other side. Youngjae took the invitation, looking back at Jongup and refusing to break eye contact. Youngjae sat directly across from him, and though he could see the new man shifting beside him, he didn’t dare turn his head.

“Almost killed him.” Jongup’s eyes scanned Youngjae’s trembling body, and whatever he found pleased him. He smirked. “I should’ve.” Yongguk frowned at him, glancing at Youngjae and back. 

“For existing?” the man sitting next to Youngjae said. “Be careful, Jongup. Your psycho is showing.” His dry voice made Jongup growl, turning furious eyes towards him. Youngjae stole a glance too, seeing a man with dark hair and large, serious eyes. He raised his drink to his lips and took a sip before raising an eyebrow at Jongup.

The clear fury in Jongup’s eyes made the man laugh, tilting his head back and pushing his hands against the table as though needing to physically propel himself away from it. Youngjae leaned away from him, hating the sheer volume of the man’s laugh, despite how his eyes crinkled and his mouth formed a smile almost too big for his face.

He finished laughing and promptly ignored Jongup, turning to Youngjae.

“Jung Daehyun.” He shook Youngjae’s hand, holding Youngjae’s near-limp hand in a firm grip. “I’m the sane one.” He winked, quirking the side of his mouth upwards. Jongup scoffed, but Daehyun continued to ignore him.

“Yoo Youngjae.” Youngjae smiled at Daehyun, a little of the tension falling from his shoulders as Daehyun welcomed him. He hadn’t expected anyone to defend him, not when Jongup looked so dangerous and both he and Himchan so obviously thought this was a bad idea. 

Jongup went to say something else, but the tall man who saved Youngjae’s life earlier stopped him. The man tapped his fingers against the table, creating a quiet rhythm. He noticed Youngjae watching and nodded at him, not smiling but also not frowning.

“Junhong.” His eyes moved around as he spoke, never staying in one place for any length of time. “And Jongup.” He nodded his head sideways at Jongup, who made another sound under his breath. “It’s a good night,” Junhong told him. “We’re all here. Don’t ruin it.” His voice sounded flat, despite the way he smiled as he spoke.

Jongup nodded, throwing another glance at Daehyun and then leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He caught Youngjae looking and threw him an angry glance. Youngjae jerked and looked away, his eyes finding Himchan, the only one who’d yet to say anything to him.

Himchan and Yongguk were talking, holding a quiet conversation that Youngjae hadn’t noticed before. Now that he focused more on it, Youngjae could catch a couple words.

Daehyun also watched Himchan and Yongguk, no doubt eavesdropping as well – if it could be called eavesdropping, considering Daehyun sat next to Himchan and they had no semblance of privacy.

“Look at him!” Himchan said, his voice rising as it sharpened. The words made Youngjae smile wryly, one side of his mouth twitching up. He’d heard that phrase a lot in the past two days.

“We can…” Youngjae missed the end of Yongguk’s sentence. “… got to be good...”

Youngjae could only hear the hissing of high-frequency sounds in Himchan’s response, not catching any words.

“I’m not usually wrong about the people I bring in. You know that.” Yongguk raised his voice to a normal volume.

“I’m not _doubting you,_ Yongguk,” Himchan said, hitting a hand on the table. Yongguk glanced away and upon catching Youngjae’s eye, he looked at his hands. “I refuse to babysit him.”

Jongup scoffed at his words, clearly agreeing.

“He would have died if I left him,” Yongguk said. He looked back at Youngjae, who bit his lip. Himchan looked over at him too, and something in his face softened when he met Youngjae’s eyes, only for him to shake his head and look back at Yongguk. “Give him a chance, Channie. You know how it is.”

“You owe me, Bbang.” Himchan sighed, looking down and then looking over at Youngjae. “Kim Himchan,” he said. “I –” He spoke again, only to cut off and shake his head. Youngjae nodded, figuring that was the best he’d get.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Youngjae smiled at Himchan, but his smile only seemed to make Himchan’s face harden, and he turned away without another word.

“Don’t worry about him,” Daehyun said, breathing the words in his ear. “I’m sorry he’s being like this.”

“Already keeping secrets?” Jongup said. “Should’ve known you’d go for him –”

“And why is that, Jongup?” Daehyun turned back to him, smiling as though asking an honest question and pretending to not see Jongup’s hostility. The only sign of his annoyance was the sharpness of his clipped words.

“Don’t test me.” Jongup leaned over the table with enough force to move it. Daehyun wrapped his fingers around his drink to keep the vibrations from shaking it. “I swear I’ll –”

“Stop!” Himchan said. Jongup cut off, a little regret appearing in his eyes as he glanced at Himchan. “That – that’s too far, Jongup.” As soon as Himchan spoke, something changed in Jongup’s posture. He leaned back, slipping his hands into his lap and glancing over to Himchan.

Jongup bent his head down, not apologizing but also not continuing. Himchan’s serious expression softened as he watched him. Junhong stared off into space, his hand continuing to bounce on the table.

“What can you do then?” Daehyun asked. He was still smirking from Jongup’s anger and how Himchan had chastised him. “Why’s it so important for us to have you?” Youngjae turned to him, happy for the change in subject. 

“I’m good with computers,” Youngjae said. “Yongguk-ssi thinks I’ll be able to hack into security cameras.”

Daehyun nodded a couple times as he considered it. A smile grew on his face, something totally different than the taunting, too-big smile he’d directed at Jongup. “Good – that’s actually really good. It’ll be helpful.” The new smile made Youngjae’s lips rise into a small, tentative smile as well.

“If he can actually do it,” Jongup said, killing Youngjae’s hesitant smile.

“Jesus Christ, Jongup,” Daehyun said, raising his voice and turning towards him. “Let him breathe for a minute.” Jongup scoffed, crossing his arms. It amazed Youngjae that for how dangerous Jongup look, some of his reactions appeared almost childish.

“If you think I’ll let you – of all people - tell me what to do, you’ve got another thing coming.” The venom returned to Jongup’s voice, and Daehyun stiffened, taking a deep breath to calm down as Jongup finally caused a reaction.

“I’m not disloyal, Jongup,” Daehyun said, his voice calm but firm and his eyes narrowed. His fingers tightened on his glass. “You can’t still be on that.” Jongup looked ready to spring across the table, but Junhong laid a hand on his shoulder, taking interest in the fight for the first time. The gentle pressure made Jongup pause, but it did nothing to lessen how stiffly he sat. The tension in his body was visible even through his loose t-shirt. 

“You’ve never resolved it,” Jongup said, meeting Daehyun’s gaze with an even more dangerous look on his face. His voice shook with fury. “You go off for days – playing house and fucking some girl – and then you expect me to believe you’re actually loyal to us?”

“Sue me,” Daehyun said, raising both hands in the air. His silver watch gleamed in the light. “I have a girlfriend. I think it’s a little sad none of you talk to people outside of this.” He gestured around the table. Jongup bristled, and not even Junhong’s still-present hand on his shoulder calmed him this time.

“You were late last time.” Jongup’s hands shook, and he laid them flat on the table. “It all could have gone wrong because you were too busy –” As though Junhong gave up, he took his hand off Jongup’s shoulder and leaned his head back against his chair, closing his eyes.

“Nothing went wrong,” Yongguk interrupted. “It’s in the past, Jongup.” Jongup’s eyes didn’t leave Daehyun.

“You weren’t there,” Jongup’s voice shook with fury. “We needed you. We needed you, and you weren’t there, but you still say you’re _loyal_.”

“That’s enough, Jongup,” Yongguk said, his voice sharp as he interrupted again. Daehyun sat calmly, taking the abuse. He held his chin high, proud and put-together even in the face of Jongup’s deranged anger. 

Youngjae wondered what circumstances led to Daehyun and Jongup working together at all, considering their obvious hate for each other and how Jongup threatened him. Then again, it seemed Jongup threatening people was a common theme of the gang. 

Perhaps a better question was why someone as deranged as Jongup was allowed in a gang who attempted to create a positive impact in the surrounding areas.

“You agree with me,” Jongup said, almost snarling the words. “You all agree with me. He’s disloyal, and he’s going to get us killed –”

“Jongup, that’s enough!” Yongguk’s chair scraped against the floor, as though he were about to stand, but he didn’t move. Jongup cut off with another growl, muttering words under his breath and refusing to take his eyes off Daehyun. “Now’s not the time. We have other things to discuss.” 

He waited until Jongup nodded and turned to look at him to speak again. Junhong took the silence as his cue to pay attention again, opening his eyes and cracking his neck as he waited for Yongguk to speak.

“Youngjae needs to train,” he said. Youngjae’s breath caught as he realized all the drama had led to him forgetting his own new role. Oh right. He was sitting at a table full of murderers. How easy it was to forget that it wasn’t only Jongup who killed people. 

Yongguk seemed to think that statement was enough explanation there, and his eyes focused on Jongup again, frowning when Jongup didn’t answer. “Jongup?” Oh fuck no. Youngjae’s heart plunged into the ground as Yongguk said Jongup’s name. He glanced over to see Jongup’s reaction. 

“I’m still not convinced we shouldn’t kill him,” Jongup said, gritting his teeth. He didn’t look surprised Yongguk chose him. “I won't do it.”

“Then it’s perfect for you to get to know him.” Yongguk sounded as though he thought that would end the conversation, as if Jongup hadn't just refused. Jongup clenched his jaw, and it wasn’t until Youngjae realized he wasn’t saying anything that he realized it ended the conversation for Jongup too.

A pile of protests Youngjae would never feel comfortable enough to say bubbled up in his throat, but Junhong continued the conversation before anyone else could break the apparent calm. 

“Is there anything else to cover, hyung?” After an entire conversation where no one used honorifics, the endearing term jarred Youngjae, catching his attention. Junhong offered Himchan a tight smile, which didn’t explain anything. 

Youngjae turned to watch Himchan again, moving in time to watch Himchan lift a short pile of papers to the table. He slid them to Junhong. “Got a new target. Park Taeseon.” Junhong skimmed the paper and handed it to Jongup, who hunched over the table to read it, squinting down at them.

“Another personal project then?” Daehyun asked, his voice dropping into a strange mix of annoyance and exasperation. Youngjae didn’t know what he meant, but he didn’t care because he recognized that name.

It rang every warning bell in his head until he placed it and stiffened in his seat.

“Park Taeseon?” Youngjae echoed. “He’s on the board at the University. Director of – something.” Youngjae couldn’t remember.

“He’s caused problems before,” Yongguk said. “Not an easy hit, but if we can get into his server then doable.”

“You want me to hack his computer.” For as matter-of-fact as his voice sounded, the realization made Youngjae’s heart begin to do gymnastics again.

“Ready to get some revenge? This man ruined your life.” Junhong grinned at him, and Youngjae found the bright, boyish smile inappropriate considering they were discussing the death of a man Youngjae had seen in person only months ago. 

He’d only ever met Park Taeseon during his hearing and the announcement of his expulsion. Youngjae wished he could remember him by more than name alone, but he couldn’t even recall the man’s face.

Or maybe he could because now Daehyun held the papers, and Youngjae recognized the man on the picture. He could even hear his voice as Park Taeseon announced the words which changed Youngjae’s entire life. Park looked like he should have a deep voice, but in reality, he had a thin, high voice. 

Sometimes, Youngjae heard it echo through his nightmares.

“I ruined my life,” Youngjae said. “I knew the risks, and I did it anyway.” He echoed the words others had told him. This wasn’t the time to consider whether he agreed with them or not.

“It was wrong for him to punish a student when they meant no harm.” Yongguk spoke up, clasping his hands in front of them. His lighter glinted as he passed it between his hands. Youngjae shook his head. He wouldn’t let them justify killing this man, especially not for philosophical maybes. 

“He didn’t know that, and it’s not like it was his call. The entire board voted.” Youngjae wasn’t sure why he so desperately wanted them to stop blaming this man, especially when he knew they had more reasons to kill him than Youngjae’s situation.

“This isn’t all about you.” Jongup’s lips quirked upwards, twitching into a smile. Youngjae would have expected anger, but Jongup only looked amused as he brought up Youngjae’s thoughts. “You don’t have a choice. We’ll kill you if you don’t help.” 

Oh. Well, that hadn’t been what Youngjae was thinking.

His eyes widened, and he swallowed, which made Jongup laugh. He glanced at Junhong, who smiled back, sharing in his amusement. Youngjae hesitated, not willing to drop the subject but also lacking the courage to continue pushing the subject in the face of Jongup’s threats.

“Before you go defending his honor, read this,” Daehyun said, pushing the paper towards Youngjae. He took it with a trembling hand, leaning over to read it.

Youngjae scanned the man’s age, his marital status and his description. Skimming, he found the list of crimes whoever typed this sheet linked him to – crimes which included the embellishment of nearly a million dollars and a large pile of covered-up environmental charges.

Youngjae’s finger touched the name of the dorm he’d lived in his freshman year. The university spoke of those new dorms with pride, and Youngjae still remembered his wide-eyed astonishment as he walked through their doors for the first time. 

The university built them on a waste dump which the government had labeled as unfit for human inhabitants. Wonderful, all Youngjae needed was more cancer-causing chemicals swirling in his bloodstream. Even so – 

“Are these really that bad?” Youngjae couldn’t stop the question from spilling from his lips. 

“You’d be surprised,” Yongguk said. “Park helps the university steal from students. Hell, the university stole from you.”

“And he deserves to die for that?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. 

Against his will, his eyes found Park Taeseon’s picture once again. Youngjae still couldn’t imagine killing him.

“You know the budget increases? The entire campaign against sexual harassment?” Daehyun said, his voice lowered as though the entire table wasn’t listening in on their conversation. “Park proposed it and got it passed.”

“Yeah? So?”

“But he took the money. A million dollars,” Yongguk said. “He’s been on our list ever since, but it’s hard to get close to him.” Youngjae looked up at Daehyun, who nodded, agreeing with Yongguk’s statement. Youngjae’s hand tapped against the paper. He bit his lip.

“He’s connected to at least seven sexual harassment charges, all of which were cases where the victim left the university and the charges against him and his colleagues were dropped.” Now Himchan spoke. “He’s not someone you want running a university.”

Youngjae chewed on his lip as he thought about it. Park had committed a list of crimes – a long list and a still growing list.

“You’ll stay out of it,” Yongguk promised. “We just need you to get us in.”

“They may have added more security since I last got in,” Youngjae said. Memories of carefully arranged algorithms running until they found correct passwords danced behind his eyes. It took a long time for him to even begin to understand how the university security worked. “Especially if there were things to hide.”

“Or not because they took you out of the picture,” Junhong said. “Lucky we found you then.” He had another absurdly large grin on his face.

“Will you help us?” Yongguk said. Youngjae looked up and met his dark eyes. He considered it all, mind spinning from the list of various crimes.

His memories of Park condemning him and destroying his life played fully through his conscious mind for the first time since it happened. Youngjae couldn’t deny that he was a bad person. Yongguk had laid out all the details before him.

He glanced at Jongup. Plus, no matter how he felt, Jongup was right to say he really had no choice. Yongguk may not like to tell him that straight out, but Youngjae knew he had few options. If he refused to help, then most likely either Jongup or Himchan would uphold their promise to kill him.

Earlier that evening, he'd promised to slow down and consider before deciding anything. With a circle of hard eyes staring at him, he couldn't fulfill that promise for long.

“Yes.” His voice came out strangled, and he cleared his throat after he spoke. Youngjae’s hands clenched together under the table as his stomach rolled in his abdomen.

“Wow,” Jongup said with a dry voice and that horrible, mocking smile. “We went through all that like you actually have a choice.” He scoffed. “That everything?” Yongguk nodded, and Jongup stood up. Junhong echoed the movement. “Good. Meet me here at 7 tomorrow.” He looked at Youngjae and smirked. “I don’t know what you expect, but it will be harder.”

Youngjae would have felt less scared if Jongup hadn’t looked a little pleased when thinking about it.

He and Junhong let the heavy door bang shut behind them. As soon as they left, Daehyun let out a small scoff as he stood. He grabbed his jacket – a suit jacket, Youngjae realized, noticing Daehyun’s elaborate clothes for the first time.

“You should stop him when he gets like that,” Daehyun said, frowning as he addressed Himchan and Yongguk.

“He’s been doing better,” Himchan said. “You need to stop antagonizing him.” Daehyun stiffened, frowning at him.

“You can’t think he’s right about me.” Daehyun’s voice rose as he stared down Himchan and Yongguk. “There’s nothing wrong with having friends.”

Himchan shared an unsure glance with Yongguk. “He’s right that you are less-" He paused, searching for the right word. "-involved than the rest of us.”

Daehyun raised his eyebrows, leaning over the table to stare even harder at them. “Listen, I know you make this your entire life, but I can’t. I have more to live for." Yongguk’s eyes narrowed at him, but the anger only made Daehyun chuckle and shake his head.

He finished putting his jacket on and looked at Youngjae, raising an eyebrow. “Want dinner? I’ll take you out. You’ve already gotten quite the introduction to all this, but hey, I promise dinner with me will be better than Jongup giving you that.” He nodded to Youngjae’s cheek, doing this strange one-sided smile and squinting an eye.

Youngjae’s stomach made the decision for him, growling at the thought of dinner. He nodded, standing and grabbing his backpack. Throwing a glance behind him at Yongguk and Himchan, he followed Daehyun through the doors. 

Yongguk’s eyes never left Daehyun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please comment if you have time! I really really appreciate any and all feedback :)


	4. The Conversational Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun smiled wryly, one side of his mouth tilting up. “World would be better off without us though, don’t you think?”
> 
> “I – ” Youngjae’s words died in his throat. He'd considered calling the police only hours beforehand. Daehyun looked like he understood Youngjae's thoughts much too well, a small knowing smirk stuck on his face.
> 
> “Yongguk thinks so."

“Sorry about them,” Daehyun said, hesitating in the doorway so as to not drop the door on Youngjae before walking out onto the street. “They don’t understand having a life outside of this.” He made a scornful sound high in his throat as he condemned his – friends? Coworkers? Fellow gang members? Youngjae didn’t know how to describe the relationship between Daehyun and the others.

Well, except for with Jongup. They made the whole enemies thing pretty clear.

“And you do?” Youngjae asked, walking a little faster than his comfortable pace to keep up with Daehyun. He chuckled, but Youngjae got the feeling he didn’t find the question particularly funny.

“Hope so. I understand more than them, at least. Don’t get me wrong – I care about them, but this can’t be my whole life. It’s temporary. Guessing you’re the same?” Daehyun glanced back towards him, tilting his head as his eyes scanned Youngjae.

“I – yeah. Temporary.” Youngjae bit at his lip, wondering if Daehyun planned on gauging his loyalty, and if that was why Daehyun treated him so kindly.

“Then you should stick with me,” he said, not seeming to notice Youngjae’s hesitation despite how he still watched him. “This shit loops you in fast if you aren’t careful. Have to maintain some space.”

“I – don’t think that would happen.” 

“You don’t think you’ll get pulled in?” Daehyun let out an amused, knowing huff. Youngjae frowned, waiting for him to speak again. “We all got into this the same way you did, babe. What makes you special?”

The nickname made Youngjae's frown deepen, but he cared too much about what Daehyun said to focus on that. “What do you mean?” He jolted to a stop as Daehyun paused in front of him, turning back to look at him from the street corner.

“You’re desperate. Been there, done that.” Daehyun looked him up and down, one side of his mouth rising into a scornful mimic of a smile. The strange, not-quite-amused way Daehyun spoke startled Youngjae, and he stared at Daehyun as though if he looked hard enough, he'd be able to see who Daehyun had been in the past. “You need something outside all this shit. Keeps you balanced.”

“So you have _friends?”_ Youngjae tried to keep the incredulous note from his voice, but Daehyun chuckled, clearly understanding his disbelief.

“Among other things.” Daehyun stopped by a silver car, pulling keys from his pocket and nodding his head to signal Youngjae to get in when he hesitated.

Youngjae got in, glancing around the car. It looked almost too nice, and Youngjae immediately realized it must be brand new, considering the smell and how impersonal it looked. Daehyun noticed him glancing around as he started the car.

“Nice, right? It’s new.” Youngjae felt out-of-place in such an expensive car, especially knowing Daehyun had got it recently. He looked over at Daehyun, seeing the small smirk on his face. Daehyun raised his eyebrows, the smirk growing, and Youngjae blushed as he realized he hadn’t responded.

“Oh – um – yeah, it’s great. I’ve never had a car before –” Youngjae realized as he spoke that it didn’t make sense to say that “– so yeah, to me this is great.” Daehyun’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched Youngjae flounder. 

“I like it. Didn’t plan on getting this one, but it’s grown on me.” He patted the shoulder of the seat, glancing around the car with a fond smile. “You interested in cars?”

“Not really?” Youngjae said, apologetic as he figured Daehyun was trying to make conversation, and he was making it painfully awkward in return. Youngjae played with his sleeves, glancing over at Daehyun and regretting it as he compared Daehyun’s suit to his own thin sweater.

“I can teach you a little if you’d like,” Daehyun said. “I don’t know if a computer scientist would like cars, but we can see.”

“I’d like to learn,” Youngjae said, hoping Daehyun didn’t notice the blush still on his face. 

“Maybe you can show me a thing or two about computers too,” Daehyun said. “I know my way around then, but nothing like what you can do if Yongguk thinks you can hack a university.”

“Sure,” Youngjae said. “It’s nothing too hard – like solving a puzzle.”

“I’m used to that with cars. Something tells me they’re different puzzles though.” Daehyun smiled again, and Youngjae realized he had a beautiful smile. It struck Youngjae how sincere Daehyun sounded, as though unafraid to speak to Youngjae as a friend.

Youngjae couldn’t help but sigh with relief as he thought about how Daehyun had reached out to him and decided to help him. Out of everyone in the gang, Daehyun clearly was the most stable. He may not know what it takes to turn a person into someone like Jongup, but he knew he didn’t want to find out.

Daehyun pulled the car into a parking lot. Youngjae peered out the window at the restaurant, not recognizing its name. He could tell from the classy architecture that the place must be expensive though, and well – Youngjae barely had a penny to his name.

“I can’t afford this,” he said before Daehyun could leave the car.

“I know,” Daehyun said. “My treat. Figure you need one after Jongup tore into you like that.”

“Is he always like that?” They walked towards the restaurant, and Youngjae blinked up at the bright sign and large building.

Daehyun didn’t answer, instead only holding the door for him. Youngjae let out a flustered “thanks” in return. He watched as Daehyun gave his name to the host, who took him back to a table. Youngjae eyed his jeans and sweater, comparing it to the fancy clothes surrounding him.

“Don’t worry,” Daehyun said, coming up behind him and talking low so the hostess couldn’t hear him. “You look fine. Besides, no one will bother you with that cut. Makes you look scary.”

“Really?” Youngjae asked, incredulous. He raised a hand to poke at it, only for Daehyun to smile and pull his arm back down.

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “Just thought you needed the encouragement. Pretty sure nothing could make you look scary.” He took a seat across from Youngjae. “When that scars it might change though.”

“You think it’ll scar?” Youngjae said, frowning as he raised his hand again. Daehyun raised his eyebrows as Youngjae poked at it again. 

“If you keep pouting at me like that they’ll ask you for ID when we order drinks.” Daehyun laughed at his own joke, tilting his head back and opening his mouth wide as the bright sound escaped. Youngjae flushed again, hunching in his seat as his cheeks darkened. He looked down at the menu. “How old are you? You can’t be much younger than me.”

“Twenty-two,” Youngjae said, flipping open the menu and looking at the dishes. He scanned the prices, looking for the least expensive.

“I was right then,” Daehyun said. “I’m twenty-three. You look young for your age.”

“I used to hear that a lot,” Youngjae said, looking up only to meet Daehyun’s eyes. He hadn’t opened his menu.

“I’ll order for us if you don’t mind,” Daehyun said. Youngjae shook his head, closing his menu. He tapped his hands on his lap, wishing for something to say. “So what else do you do? Computers can’t be your whole life.”

Youngjae bit his lip because he’d never been a particularly interesting person, and in the past months, he hadn’t done much at all. He didn’t want to admit he’d spent the last couple months ignoring reality and playing video games. “I like to read,” he said. Youngjae hadn’t picked up a book in months, not even after he’d stopped having classes.

“Not my thing. More of a movie guy myself.” Daehyun smiled at their waiter as he came over, asking for their drinks. He ordered them drinks with a name Youngjae didn’t recognize, but he thought it sounded expensive. “Got a favorite?”

“Oh – um – not really?” Youngjae said. “I like mysteries.” It was true; Youngjae had always enjoyed reading books where he got to try and figure the story out before it happened. “Do you?”

“Nah, I’m with you. Comedy’s nice though. God knows I need more reasons to laugh.” Daehyun smiled at Youngjae. “Let me know if you ever want to watch one.”

Youngjae frowned at the reminder. He’d agreed only an hour or so ago to help the gang kill someone. Youngjae wished he could believe only working on the detail gathering side of it all meant his conscience would remain intact after it ended, but he knew better than that.

For as kind and charming as Daehyun acted, he also killed people. It bothered Youngjae how easily he could forget that when caught up in their conversation.

“How do you do it?” Youngjae asked. Daehyun raised an eyebrow. “Act like this when –” He cut off, shaking his head as emotion rose up and stuck in his throat. It happened without warning, and Youngjae gritted his teeth to ensure he didn’t cry or anything more embarrassing in front of Daehyun.

“Not a good topic for dinner,” Daehyun said, looking almost regretful as the waiter returned with their drinks. “I told you – I have a life outside of it all. Keeps me sane.” Daehyun thanked the waiter before ordering food for them both. Youngjae slid his menu over to Daehyun so the waiter could take both more easily. 

He left, and Daehyun leaned over the table, taking a sip of his drink.

“You should learn to keep work separate from leisure. Makes things easier.” Youngjae nodded, hesitating as he still wanted to ask questions but also seeing Daehyun's point.

“Try it,” Daehyun said, nodding towards Youngjae’s glass. “You’ll like it.” Youngjae picked it up hastily, hating how Daehyun needed to tell him when to do everything. It was a white wine, and Youngjae didn’t doubt it was a higher quality than anything he’d had before.

He took a sip of the wine, appreciating the taste of it. It tasted good – better than any wine he’d had before – but it still tasted like wine to him. He figured he didn’t know enough to judge the quality.

“It’s good,” he said, making Daehyun smile. “Thank you. I really like it.” He wanted to make it clear he felt grateful for all Daehyun had done for him. Youngjae set the glass back onto the table. 

“I’m glad,” Daehyun said. “So anyway, what else do you like? I want to get to know you.” He smiled, watching Youngjae and not seeming to mind as he paused. Youngjae bit his lip, thinking as he looked down at the table.

“I’m really not that interesting.” The words came out as an apology. “Sorry.” He hoped he didn’t sound too pathetic.

“You’re interesting,” Daehyun said. “Everyone’s interesting. What’d you study?”

“Computer science,” Youngjae said, shrugging as he figured that wasn’t what Daehyun wanted to hear if he wanted something interesting. “I wanted to develop video games.” He hoped Daehyun wouldn’t laugh at him for that. Youngjae picked at his sweater as he waited for a response.

He hated how he cared about Daehyun’s perception of him.

“That’s awesome,” Daehyun said. His earnest voice made Youngjae look up in surprise. “I played a lot as a kid, even dreamed of doing the same thing once.”

Good. Youngjae shook his head, trying to shake how much he wanted Daehyun to like him out of it. He wasn’t looking to get close to Daehyun, just perhaps – closer to him than the others. It didn't matter what Daehyun thought of him. “What about you? - uh, what did you study?"

“Never went to college, but I wanted to be a musician.” Now Daehyun did laugh, shaking his head at his past self. “Dreamed of working with some company and being on a stage somewhere. I was a stupid kid.”

“That’s not stupid,” Youngjae said. “If it’s what you like, then it’s what you like.” Somehow he could imagine Daehyun on a stage, if only because he carried himself with such confidence.

“Eh,” Daehyun said, shrugging. “Definitely not my thing anymore. I’m past childish dreams.” He laughed again. Youngjae wondered if he imagined the bitter note in the otherwise bright sound.

“You like music though?” Youngjae said, trying to keep the conversation moving. Daehyun took another sip of his drink before he responded.

“Less than you’d think, considering. I like good acting more now,” Daehyun said. “Part of why I watch so many movies.” Youngjae nodded, figuring that made sense.

“You’d make a good actor.” Youngjae flushed after he spoke, realizing he hadn’t thought that comment through. Daehyun laughed again, and Youngjae smiled back when he realized the laugh no longer sounded bitter.

“What makes you say that?” Daehyun said. Youngjae swallowed hard. He’d thought it because Daehyun seemed so… normal despite his line of work, but of course he couldn't say that.

“Well – um –” Youngjae racked his brains for a decent answer. “You just look like you could be one.” Okay, so that wasn’t a good answer, but it was better than stomping on the mood by bringing up how Daehyun murdered people. Daehyun chuckled at the comment. 

“Don’t let my girlfriend hear you flirt with me like that.” The glint of amusement in Daehyun’s eyes only got larger as Youngjae spluttered a defense.

“I wasn’t – I just meant –” He trailing off, looking down again and playing with his sleeves. 

“I’m joking, Youngjae,” Daehyun said, making Youngjae’s head snap up and their eyes meet again. 

“Oh.” Youngjae wished he had something cleverer to say, but he could only bite at his lip and stare at Daehyun, who met his gaze with a calm smile. “Your girlfriend sounds nice,” he said after a long pause.

“She’s great,” Daehyun said, his voice dropping as he got more serious. “I love her.” Youngjae nodded. He hadn’t expected that either. 

Some part of him wondered whether the girl knew about Daehyun’s life. Considering how he acted, Youngjae could imagine her dating him either way. Maybe Daehyun was right - Youngjae had seen them all at that meeting. None of the others had acted as put-together, as normal as Daehyun, and well, he didn't want this situation to change him too much. He was lucky Daehyun reached out to help him at all.

The waiter brought their food, and Daehyun told him he’d buy the rest of the bottle of wine after he’d set their food down. Youngjae’s stomach growled as he saw the large portion of meat. 

“Hungry?” Daehyun asked, smiling wider when Youngjae nodded. “Good.” 

He hadn’t eaten much all day, mostly because the stress of meeting everyone got to him. Youngjae wondered if he should be able to eat, knowing he was going to be an accomplice to murder, but his stomach still growled even with the new developments. Maybe that was good; he was trying to keep his distance from it all.

“Go ahead then.” Daehyun smiled as Youngjae picked up his chopsticks and tried some of the beef.

“It’s great.” He may not have been terribly impressed by the wine, but the food tasted amazing. “Wow.”

“This is my favorite restaurant,” Daehyun said, taking a bite of his own food. “It’s the best place I’ve found, and it’s not as expensive as it looks, which is nice. I bring my girl here a lot.”

“What’s she like?” Youngjae asked, trying to eat at a slow pace so he didn’t look rude. He glanced up at Daehyun when he didn’t respond immediately, only to freeze in surprise when he realized Daehyun was biting his lip and staring at him.

“I’d prefer not to go into detail,” Daehyun said. He let out another small laugh, but it sounded a little too loud, a little too uncomfortable to be real. “I’m protective of her. I’ve already told you more about her than the others know.” Youngjae nodded, figuring he could understand that. “I think Jongup made it pretty clear he doesn’t like her.”

“That makes sense,” Youngjae said. “I’m sorry it’s like that.”

“Jongup’s got his reasons. He means well, really does. He just hasn’t been right in a long while.” Daehyun shook his head, looking apologetic. “But you know that already.” He shrugged.

“Not really,” Youngjae said. “I mean, I know he’s dangerous. I don’t get why he hates you – or me – so much.”

“That’s not for me to say,” Daehyun said. “How about we just talk about something else? You do anything else cool?”

“Not really?” Youngjae said. He tried to push Jongup out of his mind, knowing Daehyun didn’t want to focus on all that while they ate. “I liked my classes, but after I got expelled –” He shrugged. Mentioning his expulsion still caused a pang to reverberate through his chest. He clenched his teeth to avoid grimacing.

“Are you really not angry about that?” Daehyun said. “I’d be furious.” Youngjae couldn’t make himself look at Daehyun, knowing he’d meet his confident gaze again. Of course someone like Daehyun, who came off as poised and proud, would feel angry at the university.

Youngjae wasn’t like that. 

“I guess I just accepted it a long time ago.” 

Daehyun didn’t answer, and for a long while they ate in silence. Youngjae ate much faster than usual, the combination of his own hunger and the fantastic food spurning him on. He stole glances at Daehyun, who seemed lost in thoughts as he ate.

Youngjae wondered if Daehyun wanted to come off as so mysterious, or if it was unintentional. He racked his brain, running what Daehyun had said through it. Part of him wanted to doubt why Daehyun treated him so well.

How Daehyun acted at the meeting didn’t tell him much – but he did remember one thing he said that Youngjae didn’t understand.

“Can I ask about something you said?” Youngjae asked. “With Yongguk.” Daehyun’s small smile dropped, and Youngjae regretted mentioning it. Before he could tell Daehyun it didn’t matter, Daehyun nodded and raised an eyebrow, face blank as he waited.

“You called – what you’re doing a personal project.” Youngjae couldn’t include himself in with them, not yet. “Why?”

Daehyun made a small amused sound, but his face remained serious. He met Youngjae’s eyes without wavering, but he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Youngjae didn’t know how to take the contradictions.

“Yongguk’s got it in his head that we should do good.” Daehyun rolled his eyes. “Park's one of those projects, and all that means is that we won’t get paid much.”

“What?” Youngjae struggled to understand the connection, getting the feeling it was just out of his range.

“We aren’t some assassin group.” Daehyun’s lips twitched into a smile. “Only time we kill people is when Yongguk needs a moral high.”

“And – he does that by killing people?”

“Judge, jury, executioner.” Daehyun scoffed, then paused as the waiter came to take their plates, nodding at him with a sweet smile. Youngjae couldn’t take his eyes of Daehyun, rolling the new information through his mind. “He thinks the world’s better off without them.”

“Do you think that?” Youngjae needed to know. He fiddled with his hands under the table, hoping Daehyun would disagree because killing people like that was insane, and he didn’t know why Daehyun followed Yongguk’s orders.

“Nah, Park Taeseon's corrupt, sure, but killing him won’t fix anything. He’s a dime a dozen in a place like that.” Daehyun smiled wryly, one side of his mouth tilting up. “World would be better off without us though, don’t you think?”

“I – ” Youngjae’s words died in his throat. He'd considered calling the police only hours beforehand. Daehyun looked like he understood Youngjae's thoughts much too well, a small knowing smirk stuck on his face.

“Yongguk thinks so,” Daehyun continued. Youngjae wondered why he was sharing so much when earlier he’d stayed so silent about everything related to the gang. “Gotta do something to sleep at night, you know? He already gives every penny he makes to that homeless shelter, but nothing’ll ever be enough.”

“And – everyone’s like that?” Youngjae couldn’t imagine Jongup regretting hurting people.

“Nah,” Daehyun said. “Only Yongguk. Space, remember?” He paused long enough for Youngjae to remember what Daehyun was referencing. Youngjae appreciated the extra moment, as blood pounded in his ears and his mind worked slower than usual as it tried to comprehend the new information. “In any case, It’s easier to roll with it than fight it. You’ll see. This’ll be over soon.” Youngjae hesitated, unsure what Daehyun meant by ‘over.’

“What happens after this?” Youngjae asked, but Daehyun looked away, not answering for a long pause.

“I should get you back soon,” Daehyun said, frowning and acting as though Youngjae hadn’t asked anything. “Jongup wants you early tomorrow, and he’s not going to go easy on you.” Youngjae’s heart sank at the reminder. “I’ve done you no favors there, either.” Daehyun grimaced.

“No – don’t think it’s your fault,” Youngjae protested. “Jongup hated me as soon as he saw me.” He gestured to his cheek. 

“I know, but me taking you out tonight didn’t help.” One side of his lip quirked up as he glanced away before draining the last of his wine. He didn’t share whatever thought caused that reaction. 

The waiter brought the check, and Daehyun pulled out his wallet, taking out a stack of small bills. Youngjae fidgeted, not liking how he couldn’t help pay for it. Daehyun laid the bills on the check, handing it back to the waiter. 

“No need to look so uncomfortable,” Daehyun said. “I wouldn’t’ve brought you if I didn’t mind paying.” Youngjae chewed on his lip, trying to calm down. He wondered how Daehyun managed to exude so much confidence when he was only a little older than Youngjae. 

He followed Daehyun back to their vehicle, brushing past other people as they went. Daehyun didn’t speak again until they were already driving. 

“I hope you enjoyed tonight,” he said, glancing at Youngjae, who nodded, worried Daehyun would find him ungrateful.

“It was great,” Youngjae said. “Some of the best food I’ve ever had.” He wasn’t lying.

“Good,” Daehyun said. “Listen, if you stick with me during all this, then it’ll be a lot easier for you. Just trust me.” Youngjae nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if he agreed or not.

“Thank you for helping me,” Youngjae said. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You’d have been fine,” Daehyun said, smiling that same easy smile he seemed able to summon at any time. “Don’t discredit yourself. Yongguk thought you could handle it, and he’s never been wrong.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I don’t think I want to be that.” Youngjae jumped as Daehyun laughed, loud and unexpected.

“It’s a compliment. Promise,” Daehyun said. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Youngjae.”

“Thank you,” Youngjae said. He fidgeted, considering one last question he wanted to ask. Before he could talk himself out of it, he blurted it out. “May I call you hyung?” 

Daehyun didn’t use honorifics, but Youngjae didn’t want to disrespect him. At the same time, calling him hyung would imply a familiarity between them, something Youngjae wished almost desperately to have.

Daehyun chuckled at the question. 

“We’re equals, Youngjae,” Daehyun said. “No need for it.” Youngjae nodded, biting his lip and clasping his hands in his lap. “But if you start calling Himchan and Yongguk ‘hyung,’ you’ll get on their good side quick.” Youngjae raised an eyebrow, waiting for Daehyun to explain more.

“Only Junhong uses them, and they protect him like a child. Yongguk already wants to protect you, and believe me, Himchan’ll come around quick. Pretty sure they’ll pull out the adoption papers the moment you use it.” Daehyun’s voice was dry, and he made it clear with a roll of his eyes that he didn’t think highly of that aspect of Yongguk and Himchan.

Youngjae nodded, watching Daehyun with unsure eyes as he pulled the car to a stop, letting Youngjae get out. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Youngjae said, sliding out of Daehyun’s car and thankful for the escape from their conversation. He had too much to think about already.

Daehyun stared at him, meeting his eyes with such an intense look that Youngjae didn’t dare close the door.

“Good luck with Jongup tomorrow. You’ll probably need it.” Daehyun didn’t look away from him as he spoke.

Youngjae thanked him and closed the door.

And then Daehyun drove away, but Youngjae watched his shiny silver car until it turned a corner and drove out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is highly appreciated, as always! To trust Daehyun or not to trust Daehyun... that is the question...
> 
> Also shameless self plug: If you'd like a completely different, humorous fic with a lot of Daejaeup, then I have the [ fic for you :)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267678)


	5. Pointless Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop.” Jongup waited until Youngjae turned to look at him to speak again. “Throw the last one.”
> 
> “It’s broken,” Youngjae said, his voice coming out high-pitched and incredulous even though he knew he shouldn't test Jongup's patience. He frowned, clenching the thin metal dart tighter in his fingers.
> 
> Jongup smirked. “I know.”

A loud beeping stirred Youngjae from sleep, and he groaned, flopping an arm over his eyes to try and ignore it. His head buzzed from a restless night, and Youngjae wished he could forget about the training he’d do this morning.

He had no idea what Jongup planned for him to do, but Youngjae knew it would be awful.

Rolling off the couch, he stumbled to his feet, rubbing at his eyes as he groped for his phone, switching off the awful beeping. After he’d managed that, he stumbled into the bathroom Yongguk had shown him, dressing as quickly as he could. Yongguk had also shown him another room down the hall, which had a microwave and a small amount of food.

He appreciated the small breakfast, unsure of how long Jongup would keep him busy. Youngjae chewed on his lip, playing with it as he tried to imagine what would happen once he met Jongup. Eyes drooping and still a little sore from walking two days ago, Youngjae waited until it got close enough to seven for him to go outside and meet Jongup.

For as reluctant as he felt about this, he wouldn’t dare be late. As he walked outside, he glanced around the other streets. The rising sun managed to cast the streets in a soft light that made the area look less eerie – or perhaps Youngjae already felt a little safer there.

He glanced at his phone, seeing the time change to seven o’clock. Fewer than ten seconds later, Jongup emerged from one of the side alleys. From his ruffled hair, Youngjae figured he hadn’t been awake long either. The messy hair somehow managed to make him look younger, but his glare looked the same as it did last night.

Youngjae froze and waited for him to speak.

“At least you’re on time,” Jongup said. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaving it even messier. “Let’s get this over with.” Youngjae nodded a couple times, trying to keep from antagonizing him. Jongup took the time to run his eyes over Youngjae’s body. He scoffed.

Youngjae winced, unsure of how to respond. For as short as Jongup’s answers were, he didn’t seem actively angry, and Youngjae preferred to keep it that way.

“What are we doing?” he asked, taking in Jongup’s simple tank top and workout shorts. Youngjae grimaced at his own jeans and t-shirt. He hadn’t brought workout clothes in his backpack. Hell, Youngjae didn’t even think he owned workout clothes. 

“What are _you_ doing, you mean,” Jongup said. He smirked, and Youngjae’s heart sank a little further. “I have a car. You don’t.” He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Youngjae. Jongup had written an address on it. “Get there.”

“You walk me to walk?” He stared at Jongup with widened eyes and a wrinkled forehead, incredulous.

“No, I want you to run,” Jongup said, totally serious. He smirked, raising an eyebrow at Youngjae’s shock. “What? Did you think I’d hand you a gun and go from there?” Jongup chuckled and turned, leaving Youngjae standing in the alley, clutching the paper in his hand. He paused, turning back to look at Youngjae when he saw he hadn’t moved. “Start now. It’s a long way there, and you don’t want to keep me waiting for too long.”

Then he turned and disappeared, his footsteps echoing down the alley. Youngjae looked at the address, biting his lip. He put it into his phone’s map, groaning as he realized to go over four miles to reach it. The route looked simple enough, and Youngjae put his phone in his pocket, wishing he’d brought clothes that worked better for working out than his jeans.

He started walking in the right direction, traveling until he hit the main road before he started to jog. Youngjae wished he could say he did better than he expected at the running, but within a couple minutes, his breaths came out as pants. The heavy, warm air only made it harder, and sweat soaked into his t-shirt. 

By the time ten minutes passed, he had to stop and walk for a few minutes. A woman glanced at him from across the street, and he avoided her gaze, hoping he didn’t look too pitiful. He could feel the sweat making his clothes stick to him, and his jeans rubbed uncomfortably against his skin.

Youngjae allowed himself to walk until his breathing calmed to normal before he began jogging again. His mouth felt dry, and his throat hurt from the harsh gasps. He wished he’d thought to bring water, and part of him hoped Jongup would bring some, but he really doubted that.

Youngjae glanced at his phone, using it as an excuse to slow down. He’d only gone a little over a mile. Sighing, Youngjae slowed to a walk again. Youngjae pulled his shirt away from his body, grimacing as the sweat stuck to him. He hissed as sweat dripped into his cut and held a hand against his cheek. 

For a long while he walked, before finally choosing to jog again. Youngjae figured Jongup already waited for him at the location, and he feared Jongup’s reaction if he took too long. Though Jongup at least acted more amiable that morning, he also hadn’t stayed long.

The last thing Youngjae wanted to do was provoke him. 

The run dragged on for what felt like hours, and when Youngjae finally turned the last corner, he found a nondescript building with boarded windows and high walls. He would have questioned the location, but Jongup leaned against the brick wall, eyes closed. As soon as Youngjae stepped towards the door, Jongup’s eyes opened, and he stepped away.

“Took you long enough,” Jongup said. “Now time to really start.” Youngjae placed a hand against the bricks, leaning against it.

“Really start?” he echoed. “I don’t think –”

“Let’s make this clear,” Jongup said. “Until you have a chance at living, you don’t get to question anything I say.”

“Why? You were willing to kill me before. Why help me now?” Youngjae knew he shouldn’t address Jongup in such a combative way, not when Jongup already threatened him, but he also couldn’t follow Jongup like a puppy.

He didn’t trust Jongup, not at all now nor ever in the future. Youngjae refused to trail after him and listen to his every word. Gritting his teeth, he held his ground when Jongup stepped closer. He couldn’t help but swallow hard, something Jongup noticed considering the way his lips twitched upwards, as Jongup invaded his personal space, coming so close Youngjae could feel his breath against his cheek.

“You don’t get to question me. You shouldn’t even talk to me. If you do anything, I will kill you.” He stepped away, and Youngjae struggled to regain his breath.

Jongup moved through the door, but Youngjae hesitated before clenching his fists and following. He couldn’t hide forever. If he played it cool and didn’t antagonize Jongup, Youngjae would be okay.

“Half expected you to try and run,” Jongup said. Though facing away from Youngjae, Jongup nodded, a tiny motion Youngjae almost wondered if he imagined. Then he turned, and Youngjae met his eyes, but Jongup’s trailed lower, running over his neck.

Youngjae still had bruises there from their first meeting. Jongup smirked, no doubt remembering it.

“Maybe by the time I’m done, you’ll be able to stop me from doing that to you.” His smile became sweeter, as though honestly offering to help Youngjae, who bit his cheek hard to keep from responding with a sarcastic comment.

“From now on, you’re going to meet me here by eight every morning. If you walk, I will know.” Youngjae nodded, acquiescing to the long morning runs. “If you listen to me, maybe you’ll live long enough to help us.”

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” Youngjae blurted out. “I won’t attack anyone. I don’t want to be a part of that.” He cringed back as Jongup glared. Jongup pulled a small knife from his pocket. Youngjae backed up, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry – but I won’t.”

“You’re naïve,” Jongup said, almost growling the words. “Naïve and stupid to test me. You’re weak, and you’re flighty. You’re only working with us because you’re afraid. Do you know what that means?” Youngjae shook his head, holding back a whimper as Jongup held the knife to his throat. “It means you’ll betray us. And when you do, I will kill you.”

Youngjae swallowed hard, trying to remain calm even with Jongup inches from his face.

“I’m –” Youngjae started to insist he wouldn’t betray them. Jongup grabbed the collar of his shirt, pressing the knife against his neck. Youngjae let out another whimper and tears burned in his eyes. He held them back and refused to let them fall. The thin blade pressed against his neck, but no pain accompanied it. 

“Go on,” Jongup said. “Tell me you won’t betray us. Promise me you’re loyal.” Considering how hard Youngjae trembled, it was surprising Jongup could maintain such control over the knife he didn’t even scratch Youngjae’s neck.

He hesitated, trying to remain calm. Youngjae wasn’t sure if Jongup wanted him to talk or not.

“But you can’t,” Jongup said. A strange smile widened across his face. Youngjae’s heart quickened. “You’re not sure what I want you to say. You’d say anything for me to not kill you. And that’s why you’ll betray us.” 

“I won’t –”

“So you wouldn’t leave here if given the chance? If you were safe?” Jongup took a step back, dropping the knife away from Youngjae’s neck and clutching it so tightly in his hand that white appeared on his fingers. Even so, his sharp gaze threatened Youngjae as much as the knife on his throat had. 

Youngjae stood as still as possible, not wanting to make Jongup angry. 

“Answer me.” The hand on Jongup’s knife tightened further. 

“Wouldn’t you leave too?” Youngjae asked. “Is this really what you want to do?” He bit his lip, thinking of Daehyun’s words the night before. His question made Jongup tremble with anger, and Youngjae braced himself for Jongup to attack him again, raising his hand to protect his face.

Jongup stepped towards him, pausing and then jerking his hand forward. Youngjae flinched, gasping and cringing as he shut his eyes, protecting his face with his hand. He opened his eyes right after, realizing Jongup hadn’t touched him and nothing hurt. 

Jongup stared at something behind him, a small, almost soft smile on his lips. Before Youngjae could turn and see what he was looking at, Jongup laughed. It sounded soft and airy and so different from the bitter or sarcastic laughter Youngjae had heard before that he almost couldn’t comprehend how Jongup made that sound.

Needing to see what caused Jongup’s happiness, Youngjae turned around, his eyes finding the back wall of the warehouse. 

About twenty feet away, there were three dart boards. Jongup’s knife stuck in the bullseye of the left board. Youngjae’s jaw loosened as he stared at it. He’d seen things like that happen in movies, but he’d never imagined anyone did them in real life.

He whipped back around, now finding Jongup even more dangerous than before. Jongup still stared at the knife, looking pleased. Youngjae shifted, his shoe scuffing across the ground, and Jongup snapped his eyes towards him again. 

Without a word, he walked over to the knife and pulled it from the board, observing the damage to the board. He slid the knife back into his pocket before grabbing something off the top of the center dart board. Jongup walked back over, his pace slow as he regarded Youngjae.

“Is that what you’re going to teach me?” Youngjae said, blurting the question out. Jongup raised an eyebrow, a small amused smile still stuck on his face.

“No.” Youngjae could hear the laughter in his voice as he shook his head. “No point.” 

Youngjae bit his lip, uncertain if Jongup had insulted him again. Even if he did, Youngjae agreed with it. He couldn’t imagine himself ever throwing a knife like that.

“Ever played before?” Jongup jerked his head back to the board and raising his hand to show off three darts. Youngjae bit his lip, trying to think back.

“Not really?” he said. “Maybe once or twice.” Jongup nodded at his answer, and though Youngjae scanned his face, he couldn’t read it. 

“Try it.” Jongup held a dart out for him, and Youngjae tried to calm the tremble in his hand as he took it. His fingers brushed against Jongup’s and the warmth of them, which also lingered on the metal darts, made him struggle to hide a shiver. Jongup chuckled at his reaction and nodded towards the board when Youngjae glanced at him.

His expression gave nothing away.

“Why is this different than the knives?” Youngjae frowned down at the thin metal in his hand. He didn’t dare look at Jongup, but he refused to throw it before he understood.

Even without Youngjae looking at him, Jongup made his displeasure evident in his scoffing tone. “Throw a knife, and it’s fifty-fifty if you kill someone or if you give them a weapon.”

“Then why do you –”

“Wins me a free drink every once in a while.” Jongup’s short, accentuated words told Youngjae he’d pushed his luck as far as it would go. “Throw it.”

He sighed, taking a step closer and raising his arm. Behind him, Jongup let out an amused huff, but Youngjae pushed it from his mind, refusing to glance at him. Youngjae went for it, throwing the dart and hoping for the best.

He watched the dart fly, getting closer to the board, only to fall short of it and strike the wall under the board. Jongup chuckled.

“God, you really know nothing.” He shook his head, dropping his gaze only to raise his eyes and let out a sharp laugh as he met Youngjae’s eyes. Jongup handed him another dart. “Go on. You can’t do much worse.”

Youngjae bit back a comment, instead only nodding and taking the dart. His hand brushed against Jongup’s again as he took it, and Youngjae concealed a flinch. Jongup raised an eyebrow, smirking with the same dark amusement that caused his bitter laughter.

He threw the dart, this time striking the board, though the dart bounced off and didn’t stick. This time, Jongup didn’t comment, only holding out the third dart. Youngjae took it, biting at his lip. He threw it, hoping this time he’d find himself successful.

The dart clattered to the floor, once again bouncing off the board.

“Top’s broken on that one,” Jongup said. He turned away from the board. Youngjae looked between him and it before walking over and grabbing the darts. He looked at the third dart, seeing how a small piece of the tip had snapped off. No wonder it bounced off. Walking back over, he stopped next to Jongup again.

“Go on,” Jongup said, nodding at the board. Youngjae threw the first two, and both stuck in the board, though far from the bullseye. Jongup said nothing, so Youngjae sighed and went to go grab them, not bothering to throw the broken dart.

“Stop.” Jongup waited until Youngjae turned to look at him to speak again. “Throw the last one.”

“It’s broken,” Youngjae said, his voice coming out high-pitched and incredulous even though he knew he shouldn't test Jongup's patience. He frowned, clenching the thin metal dart tighter in his fingers.

Jongup smirked. “I know.” He raised his eyebrows at Youngjae, nodding towards the board. Youngjae sighed, holding back any comments he could have made because he didn’t want to rile Jongup up any further and threw the final dart. 

It bounced off the board and clattered to the concrete ground. “That’s pointless,” Youngjae said, not able to hold it back. “It’ll never work.” Jongup didn’t answer for a moment, stepping over to the board and picking up the dart to balance it across the top of the board. 

“You’ll figure it out.” He looked Youngjae up and down. “At least, you better. Even if we keep you out of anything direct, you still need to protect yourself.” Jongup’s skeptic tone made Youngjae wonder if they really planned to keep him in the background or if he’d end up in the middle no matter what.

Jongup walked past him, leaving the darts on the board and walking to the other side of the warehouse. Youngjae hesitated before walking after him, following from far enough back that if Jongup snapped at him, he could get away.

“And a gun wouldn’t work better?” Youngjae tried not to sound too doubtful, and he kept his voice soft. The last thing he needed was to piss Jongup off more.

“Oh it would,” Jongup said, turning and meeting Youngjae’s eyes with an even stare. He smiled at Youngjae’s disbelief. “But I don’t trust you with one, and I don’t want you here.” He sighed. “However, Yongguk does, so I’ll make a deal. Figure that out”– Jongup nodded back towards the dart boards –“and I may decide you’re worth my time.” 

Youngjae nodded, too worried about Jongup’s reaction to protest. He didn’t even know if he wanted to protest. The idea of firing a gun terrified him, and Youngjae didn’t know if he could do it, not even with Jongup staring at him.

“So the darts –”

“Don’t matter,” Jongup said, interrupting. “They’re as worthless as throwing knives. But figure that out, and then I might teach you something.”

Youngjae fidgeted under his gaze until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is that all then?”

Jongup’s lips twitched into a smirk. “No. Pushups. Go.” 

Youngjae stared at him, hoping he was kidding. His hesitation caused Jongup to let out an amused huff.

“What? Did you think I’d teach you how to hold a couple weapons and that’s that? Gotta have a chance if someone jumps you, and believe me”– his eyes scanned Youngjae – “you don’t.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Youngjae glared at Jongup, knowing he shouldn’t push him but also unable to hold the comment back. Jongup terrified him, but Youngjae also couldn’t help but feel protected from Jongup’s anger when they needed him for this job.

“I want to kill you,” Jongup said, matter-of-fact and casual. “I don’t want to set you up to die.”

“What’s the difference?” Youngjae asked, scoffing. “You’ve been saying I have no chance this entire time.”

“Exactly,” Jongup said. “I think you have no chance. It’s easier to kill you now then watch you crash and burn.”

“That makes no sense!” Youngjae’s voice came out harsh, and he clenched his hands into fists. “You’re not even preparing me.”

“It would make sense – if you knew anything about what it’s like.” Jongup’s eyes were cold and furious. His hands trembled, and his breath came out unsteady as he accentuated each word with a sharpness Youngjae hadn’t heard from him before. “You know nothing about me, and you know nothing about what we do.” Jongup smirked. “If you did, maybe you’d want me to kill you.”

He tilted his head to the side, and the movement looked so childlike and innocent that it seemed out of place considering their location and conversation and Jongup himself.

Youngjae trembled under his gaze and smirk, heart pounding in his chest. He averted his eyes and got onto the floor, brushing debris and small pieces of gravel so he could put his hands on down. Youngjae managed a grand total of three pushups before his arms shook and he found he couldn’t raise himself back up to the start position. He looked up, leaning back onto his knees.

“Pathetic,” Jongup said, quiet enough Youngjae barely caught it. Despite everything, the insult caused his face to heat up. “You need to get stronger.” He spoke louder. “You don’t have a chance.”

Jongup had said those words before, but they weren’t angry this time. He sounded honest and when Youngjae looked up at him, he couldn’t help but feel Jongup meant everything he said.

Jongup may not like him, may not care about him, but he wouldn’t go out of his to mislead him. Or so Youngjae thought.

“What should I do?” he asked. His voice matched Jongup’s quiet, honest tone, and something felt different. Youngjae thought both of them noticed it. Jongup took a deep breath before he responded. Youngjae listened to him with his full attention, and when he began to work out once more, Jongup joined him.

Jongup could do more reps than him and go for longer at everything, but that wasn’t surprising. Youngjae appreciated doing it alongside Jongup, rather than alone and with Jongup staring at him.

Despite the show of solidarity, an hour later, when Youngjae was sweaty and breathing heavy and couldn’t walk without trembling, Jongup only told him to walk back.

Youngjae couldn’t imagine walking the miles back to the other safehouse. His legs shook with each movement, and his hands trembled as he looked up the route.

“Keep working on your aim,” Jongup said. “And be here tomorrow. Eight.” He turned and left the warehouse, the sound of footsteps fading as he left Youngjae alone. Youngjae leaned against the pillar, closing his eyes to try and calm his lightheadedness. 

He sank to the ground, wrapping his arms around as his legs. Jongup intimidated him, and he’d pushed him through the hardest workout Youngjae had ever done, all while assuring him he wasn’t strong enough to survive.

Youngjae hadn’t expected this, even knowing he’d work with Jongup. He looked at the map on his phone, zooming out until the names of neighborhoods popped up. His trembling hand moved it first to the University campus, recalling his old apartment.

He’d fallen into a horrible situation. To make it worse, Youngjae had attempted to rationalize it. Yesterday, he’d rationalized having a hand in the death of Park Taeseon and further promised to help with it. 

In the evening, he’d gone to dinner with a killer, only to find him charismatic and impressive the entire time. What world did he live in now that he could look a murderer in the eyes?

Youngjae knew the answer. The same world where he had agreed to have a hand in a murder. All too soon, they’d ask him to hack into the university server again. If he did, he’d help murder a man who he saw only a couple months ago.

A bad man, sure, but still a human. Youngjae couldn’t do it. Even if he survived a morning of working with another killer, Youngjae couldn’t kill a man. Tears grew in his eyes, until the phone screen became unreadable.

All it took was a single call to the police, and he could get out of this situation. Youngjae knew the whereabouts of five men who planned a murder, and surely, the police wanted that information.

But then Jongup would kill him. 

Youngjae had no doubt a man like Jongup could escape and come after him. Even if he called the police and explained everything to them, Youngjae didn’t know if they could guarantee his safety.

There’s no way the gang would let him walk away. They’d come for him. 

For now, Youngjae had to play their game, but he would keep looking for an opening, a way to escape. He didn’t plan on helping them kill anyone.

Youngjae recalled Daehyun’s words from the night before, calling this work temporary. He was trapped in it for the moment, but soon enough, he’d figure out a way out of it.

With the realization arose determination which dried his tears, and Youngjae pulled himself to his feet, using the pillar to support him. He sighed before stepping away from it, ready to start the long walk back to the couch he had to call home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always :)


	6. Multi-faceted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know why they didn’t tell you.” Jongup still watched Junhong as he spoke, even though he addressed Youngjae. His tone didn’t suggest a question, but Youngjae didn’t know the answer. He shrugged, not wanting to admit that aloud. “They don’t trust you, and someone – Daehyun, most likely – wants me kept out of it too.”
> 
> “You – don’t seem angry?” Youngjae dared to meet Jongup’s eyes as he spoke. He chuckled and smiled.
> 
> “I'm furious."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, hope you enjoy! :) Just a note, I changed a name from Kim Taeseon to Park Taeseon, just so I didn't repeat any family names.

Youngjae leaned against the wall, panting as Jongup stepped closer to him. His head swam as he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath enough so he could take a sip of water without spitting it back up. He heard Jongup coming closer but didn’t open his eyes.

“Give me a minute,” Youngjae said, the words broken by gasped breaths. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, ignoring his protesting muscles, which sent echoes of pain running through his body.

Everything hurt. Youngjae had dragged himself out of bed over an hour ago, and he’d had to walk most of what Jongup expected him to run. He’d tried to pull it together to run the last half-mile, but even the short distance left him gasping and pained.

“Put your hands on your head,” Jongup said. “It helps.” His voice sounded closer than Youngjae expected. He unwrapped his arms, moving them to his head, wincing as the movement pulled at sore muscles all the way down his sides and back.

Finally, blessedly, Youngjae’s breath calmed so he could take a sip of water. He’d learned the hard way that drinking as much as his throat wanted would only hurt him later, so he regulated his drink to three small sips.

Youngjae opened his eyes, wiping a hand across his forehead as he dropped his arms. He could still feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, and the sight of Jongup close beside him, watching him, only made it beat harder. Jongup’s expression remained blank, the only hint of emotion revealed through his slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’m late,” Youngjae said. “I know.” He pulled the front of his t-shirt forward, fanning it to get some cold air on his sweaty, overheated skin. Jongup didn’t answer immediately, continuing to watch him with narrowed eyes. Youngjae wondered if Jongup would threaten him with chasing him again, as he had only two days ago.

“Don’t come tomorrow,” Jongup said. “Or the next day.” Youngjae’s eyes widened in surprise before he could control it, and he nodded, chewing on his lip as warring emotions ran through him. On one hand, the idea of a couple days of rest relieved him; he’d come close to falling several times that morning as he stumbled along on legs which seemed capable of collapse with every step.

But still – he didn’t understand why Jongup would give him the days off. Before Youngjae could decide whether to ask, Jongup turned and walked into the old building. Youngjae followed him, trying to hide his pain as best as possible.

As usual, Jongup headed towards the dartboard, grabbing the couple darts there and turning back towards Youngjae. “We’ll focus on these today.” Jongup’s eyes ran up and down Youngjae. “You need a break.”

He hesitated, unsure why Jongup now cared about how much his body hurt. Only yesterday, he’d thrown Youngjae into one of the metal pillars after deciding one of Youngjae’s comments was disrespectful. Youngjae could feel the bruise any time he shifted his back.

“Do you not want one?” Jongup’s lips twitched into a smirk and amusement colored his voice. “You’re about to collapse.”

“Why are you giving me one?” Youngjae asked, not sure whether Jongup wanted him to push to do real work or not. Jongup had implied too many times that he wouldn’t help Youngjae until he proved his loyalty for Youngjae to let this go without questioning it.

“If you keep going, you’ll hurt yourself.” He paused, hesitating as his eyes shifted. Youngjae frowned, unused to Jongup showing anything but that complete confidence he normally possessed. “I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

He wondered what Jongup had considered saying as Jongup held the darts out to him before moving back to lean against one of the pillars. Youngjae didn’t ask, instead only nodding as he took the darts.

The first two struck near the bullseye but on opposite sides. Youngjae frowned. He’d grown much more accurate, but his precision was still lacking. Jongup watched without saying anything.

On a normal day, they’d spend about an hour of Youngjae throwing those darts and retrieving them. Jongup said nothing as Youngjae half-heartedly threw the dart with the broken tip at the board. He’d learned by now that if he didn’t throw it, Jongup would step in, staring at him with cold eyes until Youngjae complied.

It bounced off, just as it did every time, and clattered to the ground. Youngjae didn’t spare it a second thought, too used to that result to care, even if it mattered to Jongup.

For a while, Youngjae worked in silence. He felt Jongup’s eyes on him, but he’d long grown used to it and no longer spared a glance in his direction. Despite everything, he enjoyed throwing the darts. The calm motion and timing, the easy self-improvement. He hit a bullseye and grinned as the sense of self-accomplishment rushed through him, leaving his heart a little lighter. The darts were both the best and most pointless part of his training.

“You’ve been in the news again,” Jongup said, breaking the silence in such an unprecedented way that Youngjae flinched, the metal tip of one of the darts skidding across his fingertip and leaving a small scratch.

His heart sank as he comprehended Jongup’s words. “I have?”

He nodded, his eyes running over Youngjae in a disconcerting way that always managed to make him feel as if Jongup looked at him for answers to questioned Youngjae couldn’t imagine. “A lot of people think you should’ve been arrested. That you’re dangerous.”

Jongup chuckled when Youngjae didn’t answer. “Maybe they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Youngjae said, frowning. “I’m not dangerous.”

Jongup said nothing, despite how Youngjae watched him until he couldn’t bear his amused, knowing smirk and turned back to the board. They didn’t speak again for several slow minutes. Jongup moved over next to Youngjae, raising a small knife in such a familiar motion Youngjae hardly even noticed it.

He threw it, and Youngjae watched it strike the leftmost dartboard hilt first, bouncing off and hitting the ground. Jongup swore under his breath, walking over to grab it. Youngjae had learned in the past could weeks that Jongup’s knives always hit the bullseye, but it was a toss-up whether they hit hilt or blade-first.

Jongup seemed to enjoy playing with it though, often throwing it the entire time he had Youngjae throwing darts. He hadn’t spoken about it since the first day, only chuckling when Youngjae flinched the first couple times he pulled out the knife.

“Park Taeseon thinks you were a threat to the university. Said he thinks you’ll let attackers in.” Jongup fiddled with the knife in his hand, drawing the blunt blade across his fingertips. It didn’t cut him.

A horrified feeling bubbled up in Youngjae. Even Park’s name alone brought a rushed mess of emotions which rebounded in his head as though someone had dumped a thousand bouncy balls within his skull. He’d agreed to help a gang kill that man.

Youngjae had taken the time to try and understand he felt about the situation. First came the anger. He hated feeling used by the gang, and he hated Park for placing him in this position. Something in Youngjae wanted him to let that anger to overwhelm him, to drown himself in it so he could help them kill Park and then go on with a healthy conscience.

Youngjae refused to do that, not with Daehyun’s warning about getting sucked into this work. He knew jumping into situations headfirst would only hurt him, and he needed to think this through harder than anything else he’d ever done.

If he didn’t, then Park Taeseon would have been right about him the entire time. After all, Park wasn’t some nameless, faceless thing. He was a person. Remembering that transformed any anger into a lead weight filled with such a sick, disgusted feeling that it caused physical pain.

He felt it now, manifesting in his chest and pulsing through his collarbone as though he’d been smacked by it. Youngjae rubbed at his collarbone as he raised the dart to throw.

The broken one clattered to the floor again. Jongup moved beside him, pocketing the knife and stepping forward. Youngjae turned to face him right as he looked away and walked to the board, grabbing the darts out of it.

He didn’t understand Jongup, not when he bounced between threatening him and watching him in silence and trying to teach him things. Sometimes Jongup seemed to regard him in an almost positive way, watching him with a pleased expression as Youngjae’s aim grew more accurate.

The first time Youngjae had hit the bullseye, he’d even smiled, only to insist a moment later that Youngjae needed to throw the broken dart again. Still smiling, Jongup reminded him he’d only start to actually train him when he could make all three darts hit the bullseye.

Youngjae had held his tongue, wondering if Jongup was testing his patience with the darts. If he was, Youngjae thought, he’d chosen how to do it the wrong way. If anything, the darts calmed him, kept him sane by being meticulous and repetitive and a way for Youngjae to improve but not learn how to kill anyone.

Jongup’s patience surrounding the darts seemed greater than anywhere else. Youngjae could barely speak to him for risk of pissing him off, but he stared at the dartboard with a disconcerting patience.

Several times, Jongup had told Youngjae exactly how other people – never who, only an undetermined they – would kill him because of how incapable he was of defending himself. Jongup followed it up with how he and the rest of the gang wouldn’t try to save him if anything happened, leaving an ominous promise of how other gangs in the area would love to get their hands on him.

Youngjae looked forward to the day where he could stop worrying about anything killing him. He looked forward to the day he could comprehend how Jongup’s mind worked and why all the contradictions happened.

Actually scratch that, Youngjae looked forward to the day he didn’t have to worry about Jongup at all because he’d gotten the hell away from the gang.

In a fashion typical to what Youngjae had learned to expect, Jongup stopped him without a word, only laying the darts back on top of the middle board and walking back over.

“I’ll give you a ride back,” Jongup said. “Yongguk wants us back soon.” Youngjae nodded.

“Why?” Youngjae kept his voice soft, falling into a tone he tended to use with Jongup. The gentle way of speaking didn’t antagonize him, and Youngjae had learned Jongup generally didn’t mind answering a question, as long as Youngjae didn’t sound too demanding.

“Meeting. He wants to set up some plans for the hit.” Sure enough, Jongup responded with ease, not even hesitating before he answered.

“You mean plan to kill Park Taeseon?” Youngjae’s comment came out more bitter than he wanted, but Jongup didn’t become angry. On the contrary, he glanced at Youngjae with a strange, tiny smile on his face, one side of his lip curling up. Something unexpected gleamed in his eyes, but Jongup didn’t give Youngjae time to try and identify it.

As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and Jongup only gave him a curt nod, leading the way out of the warehouse and around the corner. They walked a couple blocks before Jongup stopped by an old, black car.

Youngjae got in, glancing around him only to see a large stain on the driver’s seat and a pile of old newspapers in the backseat. One laid open across the seat, balancing on a small pile of clothes, and Youngjae caught a glimpse of Park Taeseon’s name and then his own. He looked away before he could read any more of it.

Jongup had a small ornament hanging off his rearview mirror, but Youngjae couldn’t figure out what it was – some brightly-colored sphere with a pattern painted over it. Had it been anyone else, Youngjae would have figured it was purely a decoration. He didn’t know why Jongup owned it.

Jongup got in, but he didn’t comment as he started the car and drove to the office building. Youngjae accepted the silence, leaning back and closing his eyes.

By the time they reached the meeting place, Youngjae had begun to fall asleep. His head rested on his shoulder, facing the window. Jongup stopped the car quicker than necessary, jarring him, and Youngjae groaned as he opened his eyes again. He didn’t receive an apology, not that he expected one.

A week ago, Jongup would have ignored him entirely. Youngjae didn’t know if he could call it progress that Jongup raised an eyebrow at him when he rubbed his eyes with a hand and hesitated before leaving his car. Finally, without a word, Jongup grabbed a shirt from the backseat, then opened the door and got out.

Youngjae followed, doing his best to shake away his exhaustion. He walked behind Jongup, muscles Youngjae never even thought about burning and trembling. Jongup slipped the shirt around his shoulders, doing the buttons up as they walked. Youngjae wondered why he bothered with it at all, considering his white tank hadn’t even been sweat-stained.

The same couldn’t be said for himself. Youngjae frowned as he realized he most definitely smelled from the miles he’d jogged that morning. He shook the thought from his head. It didn’t matter.

Jongup pushed open the door to the meeting room, only to freeze when he crossed the doorway and Yongguk cut off a sentence, glancing up at them.

Yongguk’s surprised expression melted into one of guilt, wrinkles appearing in his face as Jongup stiffened. It disappeared so quickly Youngjae almost wondered if he imagined it.

“You started without me?” Jongup said, and Youngjae couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine the narrowed, furious eyes all too easily. “What the fuck are you doing?” Youngjae peered around Jongup and watched Himchan gather papers which had been spread across the table.

Jongup stormed in, but Himchan held the papers close when he reached out for one.

“What are you hiding from me?” Jongup said, teeth gritted, and his words coming out with a small growl.

“Nothing,” Yongguk said. “We had things to discuss before Youngjae got here. It’s not personal, Jongup.”

“You know damn well I would have left him back there. You could’ve called me.”

And here Youngjae had thought he and Jongup had grown closer over the past two weeks. He didn’t bother saying anything. Youngjae figured he shouldn’t be surprised how they didn’t tell him everything about the situation.

“Just sit, hyung,” Junhong said, offering him a boyish grin that looked wrong at a table full of murderers. “I can catch you up after.” He looked calmer than last time –his fingers weren’t tapping against the table, but he rather sat with an enviable relaxed form.

Junhong’s words caused Jongup to nod, but he also frowned, glancing around the table at the others in a way that bordered on sad. Youngjae paused before stepping after him and sitting next to Daehyun, who smiled at him.

Despite everything, Youngjae offered him a small, tight smile in return.

“Don’t worry,” Daehyun said, his breath puffing against Youngjae’s ear as his lips barely formed the words. “We didn’t cover anything too important.” He tried not to shiver at how close Daehyun got to speak to him.

Youngjae hid his surprise at how willing Daehyun was to go against the wishes of the others. He appreciated it, even if Jongup’s scowl darkened as he saw their exchange.

“How has training gone?” Himchan asked, eyes flickering between Youngjae and Jongup. His tone remained business-like, and Youngjae remembered what Daehyun had said about him. Youngjae doubted he'd warm up as quickly as Daehyun predicted.

“Awful.” Jongup spoke with a sneer hidden in his face. The sharp response shocked Youngjae into flinching. He saw Daehyun’s eyes flicker to him before he looked back away. “He’s going to get himself killed out there.”

“Sounds like you’re just a bad teacher,” Daehyun said, keeping his voice even and letting one side of his lip twitch up. Youngjae clenched his hands together under the table as Daehyun defended him, his breath catching as his gaze snapped back to Jongup.

“He doesn’t have what it takes,” Jongup said, still sneering. Daehyun chuckled under his breath, but Youngjae knew Jongup heard it from the way his shoulders stiffened further.

“Jongup.” Yongguk’s voice caused Youngjae’s eyes to snap over to him. Somehow, when trapped between the anger of Daehyun and Jongup, he found it easy to forget about the others there. “We need Youngjae.”

Jongup leaned forward, stiff and aggressive as his mouth formed a thin line. Junhong grabbed his wrist, holding it between gentle fingers. He didn’t restrain Jongup, but he may as well have because Jongup glanced at him and leaned back, deflating into his chair.

Youngjae caught Junhong muttering to him, but he couldn’t hear the words. Daehyun slid a hand behind Youngjae, resting it on his back.

Daehyun chuckled as Youngjae jumped, his fingers walking up Youngjae’s sore back and rubbing circles into his muscles. He relaxed into the touch as Daehyun’s deft fingers seemed to understand exactly how to make the pain decrease and make his back less stiff.

“You know we need him,” Himchan said, leaning forward over the table as he spoke. “And we know you too well to think you can’t teach him.” Himchan tilted his head to the side, watching Jongup as he began to tremble with anger.

Youngjae wished he understood anything about Jongup. For all his threats, Youngjae had never seen him with such a short fuse before. It made him wonder what unspoken things he’d missed in the conversation.

Despite Junhong’s hand moving to his shoulder, Jongup leaned over the table, matching Himchan’s position. He raised a small knife, which Youngjae recognized as the one he threw.

“Give me a reason,” he said, his voice almost devoid of emotion, coming out as not much more than a whisper. “Do it.”

Despite the threat, no one at the table reacted strongly. Youngjae stiffened in his chair, hesitating and biting his lip because someone needed to do something before Jongup killed Himchan.

Daehyun glanced away from Jongup to meet Youngjae’s eyes, and he shook his head, making it such a tiny movement that Youngjae almost believed he only imagined it until the hand on his back pressed harder against him.

Youngjae bit at his cheek, recalling how the blade Jongup raised was cheap and blunt. Not to mention he’d have to throw it to hurt Himchan from his position. Was he even really threatening Himchan? Youngjae chalked it up with the growing list of things he didn’t understand about him.

Himchan stared at Jongup. Youngjae scanned his face for any fear, but Himchan met Jongup’s anger with a calm gaze and a slight smile. He didn’t look worried. Yongguk shifted in his seat, and Jongup’s eyes flickered towards him.

As soon as they did, Himchan moved, leaning back into a normal position. Jongup’s hand clenched tighter around the knife, but even as a pointless warning built in Youngjae’s throat, Jongup lowered the knife, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

“If we can move on,” Himchan said, throwing a look at Jongup. He paused, glancing at Yongguk before he continued. “Youngjae, how long do you need?”

“Um – I don’t know?” He hadn’t expected Himchan to address him and only realized after he spoke that he was asking how long it would take for Youngjae to hack the server. Himchan let out a snort at his answer. Youngjae blushed. “Couple hours, assuming they haven’t changed anything.”

“So if we wanted you to get in today, you could do that?”

Youngjae nodded, tapping his fingers against each other under the table. His foot began to bounce as he recalled his previous adventure with the university server. He’d felt so giddy – doing such a “bad” thing and breaking those rules.

The feeling had long faded by the time he’d sat in front of the university board and watched his dreams shatter in front of him.

“What do you need me to do once I’m in it?” Youngjae asked, shaking his head to rid himself of the memories.

“Nothing too hard,” Himchan said. “We’re adding a meeting to his calendar.” Youngjae frowned at what surely had to be a euphemism. He wondered if they planned to tell him the truth or if that’s all they wanted him to know.

Jongup leaned forward, more interested. “Who’re you sending?” he asked, but Jongup’s eyes flickered towards Daehyun even as he said it. Youngjae followed his gaze. Daehyun smiled.

“I’m doing it.” He seemed to enjoy how Jongup’s eyes narrowed. “I’m the best actor, Jongup. We all know that.” Youngjae remembered how Daehyun mentioned he enjoyed good acting, and the sick feeling built in his stomach again.

When he stiffened, Daehyun’s hand began to rub circles in his back again, and Youngjae flinched, having forgotten his hand was there at all. Daehyun didn’t stop the motion.

“This is a big hit,” Jongup said. His voice remained somewhat calm. “Are you sure you’re up for it?” He smirked. Youngjae heard either Himchan or Yongguk sigh, but he didn’t look over to determine who. Junhong leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

“Never failed before, have I?” Daehyun chuckled as Jongup stiffened. Youngjae almost wondered if Jongup would pull out another knife, a sharper knife, considering the murderous look in his eyes.

“Kid, go get your computer,” Himchan said, quiet enough that he didn’t make either Jongup or Daehyun glance over. Youngjae nodded, moving away from the table. He walked the couple rooms over, grabbing his laptop from his bag.

When he got back, Jongup was avoiding Daehyun’s eyes, while Daehyun’s amused smirk had grown into a full-out grin. Youngjae hadn’t heard them talking while he’d walked away or back, but the heavy door probably had stopped the sound from passing.

“How easily can they track you?” Yongguk demanded as Youngjae sat down and opened it.

“They can’t,” Youngjae said.

“They did.” Yongguk’s eyes narrowed.

Youngjae sighed. “I was stupid and didn’t hide my tracks as well as I should’ve,” Youngjae said, focusing on the screen to avoid Yongguk’s eyes. “I assumed they wouldn’t notice me."

“And if they notice you again?” Yongguk sounded as he was two seconds away from stopping Youngjae, so he glanced up and met Yongguk’s heavy frown and distrusting eyes.

“They won’t,” Youngjae said. “I know what I’m doing.” He looked back towards his screen. “I’ve had months to think about everything I could have done different.” Youngjae had gone through every possible scenario, every possible way he could have avoided destroying his life.

He knew how to get in and out without being noticed, even if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it again.

“We can’t go through with this on blind faith,” Himchan said, sharing a look with Yongguk. “You need to explain it.”

“I don’t think I can if you don’t know anything about computer science,” he said, biting at his lip.

“Think you could explain it to me?” Daehyun asked. Youngjae spun around to look at him. Daehyun smiled at him. “I know the basics.” Youngjae pushed down discomfort at the smile, too many thoughts of Daehyun and acting and Park Taeseon laying heavy in his mind.

“I can try,” Youngjae said, continuing to chew on his lip as he contemplated how best to explain the process to Daehyun. “You just tell me if you don’t understand something, yeah?” Daehyun nodded, moving his seat closer so he could see Youngjae’s screen.

His breath hit Youngjae’s arm and the warm air caused goosebumps to grow on his skin. Youngjae held back a shiver and mentally rolled his eyes at himself. He knew he was working with murderers, and he knew he couldn’t refuse to do this job. It was time to accept that.

Youngjae needed to push his thoughts about morality to the side and just protect himself. He could do nothing else.

It only took him about ten minutes to explain the protections he’d put in place to Daehyun, who knew more than he expected. Daehyun had needed him to clarify a couple things and go into more detail, but other than that, he’d followed Youngjae’s explanation well.

Finally, he nodded and turned to the others. They’d been discussing something, but as soon as Daehyun moved, they quieted, waiting for him to speak.

“It’ll work,” he said. Yongguk grinned, showing too many teeth. It looked so honestly happy that Youngjae felt even more ill. Jongup’s eyes bored into Daehyun’s, but Daehyun only spared him a glance before looking back at Himchan and Yongguk.

“Good,” Yongguk said. “Go on then, Youngjae. Jongup and Junhong, stay here and help him if he needs anything. Daehyun, we need to work on the plan.”

“Wait – what do I do once I’m in?” Youngjae asked.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Himchan said. Youngjae hesitated, hating how much they withheld from him.

“I don’t know how long I’ll have,” he said. Youngjae’s heart sped up as he spoke the slight lie, trying to hide his fear from his face. Sure, the defenses could throw him out, but he trusted in his methods enough to guarantee enough time for what they needed.

Himchan peered at him before sharing a short look with Yongguk. Daehyun’s dark eyes followed their conversation, even though he said nothing.

“We don’t know the details yet,” Yongguk said finally. “We’ll return within an hour.” He and Himchan turned and left. Daehyun’s eyes rested on Youngjae as he stood, but he didn’t speak before leaving. For once, he frowned rather than summoned his characteristic, easy smile. The door swung shut behind him, banging hard against the frame.

Youngjae watched it close, then stared at the closed door until Junhong coughed behind him. He turned back, seeing Junhong finally open his eyes. Jongup frowned as he watched him, even when Junhong looked at him with a weak grin.

“You know why they didn’t tell you.” Jongup still watched Junhong as he spoke, even though he addressed Youngjae. His tone didn’t suggest a question, but Youngjae wasn't positive of the answer. He shrugged. “They don’t trust you, and someone – Daehyun, most likely – wants me kept out of it too.”

“You – don’t seem angry?” Youngjae dared to meet Jongup’s eyes as he spoke. He chuckled and smiled.

“I’m furious,” Jongup said. His face split further, forming a warped smile which prevented Youngjae from asking him any other questions. He swallowed, unnerved by Jongup’s false calm. Junhong watched him, a small smile on his face, as though not noticing Jongup’s creepy anger.

Youngjae moved his eyes back to his laptop, biting his lip as he began.

Jongup said something, but Youngjae couldn’t make out the words. Junhong laughed, loud enough to make Youngjae glance up at them. His smile and cute dimple made him look too young for any of this, but the dark bags under his eyes suggested he was only too used to it.

As he watched, Junhong bent his head forward to rest on Jongup’s shoulder. Jongup raised a hand to run through his hair.

Youngjae looked back at his computer, not wanting to wait until Jongup noticed him watching the tender scene. He filed it away for later thought. Before he’d seen the tremble in Jongup’s hand as he touched Junhong’s dark hair, he wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to act so gentle.

He’d nearly gotten in when Yongguk returned, this time without Himchan and Daehyun.

“How long?” he asked, sliding into the seat next to Youngjae and peering over his shoulder as if he could understand anything Youngjae was typing.

Youngjae hummed, not really answering as he didn’t register the question, too busy concentrating on his screen. His teeth dug into his lip as an error message popped up, but he knew how to handle it.

Without a word, Yongguk slid a scrap of paper in front of him. Youngjae glanced at it, reading a date, time and description. “Put that into his calendar.” So they really did want Youngjae to add something into Park’s calendar. He wondered how everything tied together.

Youngjae nodded, turning back to the computer. Yongguk hesitated, watching him type at a rate that must be faster than he could follow. He looked across the table, and Youngjae glanced up at the others, realizing they hadn’t greeted Yongguk when he returned.

Jongup’s eyes met Yongguk’s, silent but cold. Junhong’s long body was still folded so he could rest on Jongup’s shoulder, and the drool on Jongup’s shoulder suggested he’d fallen asleep.

Youngjae looked back down, continuing to type and figuring he’d stay out of the stare down Jongup had started with Yongguk.

“We can’t trust you around our informants, Jongup. You know that,” Yongguk said. His voice stayed quiet, and it struck Youngjae how Yongguk used the same even, non-threatening tone with Jongup that Youngjae did when he had to ask him something.

It worked better when Youngjae did it. Yongguk’s tone sounded condescending, no matter how hard he tried for gentle.

Jongup’s jaw clenched. “He tried to double-cross us.”

“You went against mine and Himchan’s orders.”

“He –”

“Goddammit, Jongup –” Yongguk’s voice sharpened, causing Junhong to shift. Jongup ran his hand through Junhong’s hair and shot another murderous glance at Yongguk. He lowered his voice. “I don’t care. We knew what he did, and we told you to not confront him.”

“You were wrong,” he said, matching Yongguk’s quiet, serious tone. Youngjae resisted the urge to look up and see Yongguk’s reaction to the flat statement. “He put us in danger.”

Youngjae grinned as the last defense fell on the university’s server. He started typing faster, distracting Yongguk, who stared at his screen. His breath hit Youngjae’s shoulder, and he suppressed a shiver, trying to ignore his presence.

A clicking sound echoed through the room, and Youngjae glanced up as it broke his concentration, only to see Yongguk flicking a lighter. At Youngjae’s glance, he slipped it back into his pocket, leaving his hand there to fiddle with it from behind the cloth muffler.

Youngjae set up an algorithm to find Park’s password, narrowing his eyes as everything but his goal drained from his head. He glanced at the note next to him. Two days. In only two days, Park Taeseon would check his calendar and find a meeting scheduled with – Youngjae glanced at the paper again – scheduled with Lee Kyungwook.

The algorithm hit a match, and Youngjae allowed himself to feel proud of his work before opening Park’s email and attached calendar. He rummaged through files, making sure this calendar was Park’s main one, but it certainly looked busy enough.

Youngjae added a new event, hands shaking as he typed the information into it, following the same pattern as Park used to name the others. Yongguk watched him, and Youngjae heard the muffled clicking of his lighter opening and closing.

He glanced over at Yongguk, his mouse hesitating over the button to save the event. Yongguk nodded, approving of Youngjae’s writing. He clicked save and closed the email, escaping the server and leaving no trace of his presence.

The only remnants of his activities were his own pounding heart, the tremble in his fingers and Yongguk’s content, perhaps even happy, expression. Youngjae glanced up at Jongup, wondering if he shared in their accomplishment too, but he had started petting Junhong’s hair again and looked as though he wasn't paying attention.

Jongup didn’t look up the entire time he watched him, but as Youngjae left the room, he felt eyes on his back. He wondered what Jongup thought, considering how Yongguk so purposefully only gave the information to Youngjae and prevented Jongup from learning it.


	7. Blurred Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All I’m saying is your expulsion wasn’t all your fault.” Daehyun paused, dark eyes surveying Youngjae, who leaned back as his anger dissipated. “I think you’re wrong though.”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “About why you did it,” Daehyun said, clarifying. His eyes didn’t leave Youngjae’s face. “I bet that was part of it – wanting to do something crazy. But not checking your tracks? You got cocky.”

“Hey, Youngjae!” 

Youngjae paused at the yell, his hand resting on the sofa where he’d prepared to sit down. He recognized Daehyun’s voice at the same time he saw Daehyun walking over, a wide smile on his face.

His heart quickened as Daehyun approached, and he took a few quick steps back from the couch. Internally wincing at his reaction, he smiled back at Daehyun.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Daehyun came close enough to rest a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind Youngjae’s initial negative response, if his wide smile said anything. “Want to catch dinner with me? I’ve been meaning to take you out again.”

“Are you sure?” Youngjae had to admit the still-large supply of ramen Yongguk had given him didn’t seem all that appealing tonight, especially compared to a restaurant. “I still can’t pay.” Daehyun’s fingers played with the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” Daehyun said, still smiling. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t want you to come, Youngjae.” His hand moved around Youngjae’s neck and steered him towards the entrance. 

Youngjae tried to calm his heart at the touch, unsure of how to react as Daehyun's fingers grasped his neck. After only a couple steps, Daehyun moved his hand away, now using it to open the door. 

“Thanks for dumbing down the explanation earlier. There’s no way I could have followed it if you’d gone faster.”

Youngjae shrugged. “You know more than I thought. Definitely more than the basics.” He meant the compliment. Daehyun had impressed him before.

Daehyun chuckled. “Thanks. Glad to hear it.” Youngjae couldn’t see Daehyun’s face as they walked, but he could almost hear the smirk in his voice. Daehyun led him to his car, motioning Youngjae towards the familiar silver vehicle. 

Nothing had changed on the inside, and he could still smell the new scent it carried, left over from the dealership it had come from.

Youngjae fidgeted as a question popped into his mind. This car couldn’t have been cheap, and every time he’d seen Daehyun, he’d worn nice clothes. Youngjae didn’t know enough about fashion to judge their cost, but he could tell Daehyun hadn’t worn them out. 

Yet another way Daehyun was the odd man out. Youngjae had grown used to Yongguk and Junhong both dressing in threadbare clothes, with Jongup’s and Himchan’s only marginally better. 

“Do you get paid a lot for –?” Youngjae cut off, unable to finish the question. Do you get paid for a lot for killing people? Daehyun’s eyes stayed on the road, and though Youngjae scanned his face to try and read him, he couldn't see anything. 

“A decent amount,” Daehyun said. “Some jobs more than others. Not enough to leave here yet, not if I want to keep my apartment for long.” Youngjae nodded. He knew all too well how it felt to watch the owner repossess an apartment. “You may get enough from this that you won’t have to live on that couch anymore.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help the surprised question or his widened eyes. Youngjae hadn’t thought they’d pay him for the job, considering he'd been threatened into helping at all.

“Of course,” Daehyun said. “It may be Yongguk’s personal project, but Himchan still pays us for it. Otherwise, why would we do it?”

“You wouldn’t do it just for Yongguk?” Youngjae frowned, adding that bit of information into what he knew about Yongguk – which admittedly wasn’t much. Daehyun shook his head.

“Too risky.” Daehyun’s hands clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. “Hits like these aren’t easy. I’m not putting my ass on the line just to satisfy his god complex.” 

“You’re not happy about doing it?” Youngjae watched Daehyun as he held the wheel tighter before relaxing both his hold and his face.

“I’d rather we didn’t get distracted. There’s enough going on as is.” The frown grew on Daehyun’s face. Youngjae noticed the bags under his eyes, covered by a light amount of makeup but also easily visible through it.

“Like what?”

“Like what we actually do,” Daehyun said. He glanced at Youngjae’s expression and snorted. “Tell me you don’t think political assassinations are the norm.” Youngjae shrugged a shoulder, and Daehyun chuckled. “Oh, babe.” He clicked his tongue like he was talking to a naughty puppy. “You’re lucky I’m looking out for you.”

Youngjae’s eyes flickered to Daehyun’s face at the nickname. So much had happened at that dinner that he’d totally forgotten how Daehyun had used it before. He pushed down bubbling annoyance at Daehyun’s condescending tone. 

Youngjae would rather someone feel the need to walk him through everything than to leave him tail-spinning and blind.

“What else is there?”

“The unfun stuff. Lots of moving things around and holding control.” Daehyun laughed as though Youngjae didn’t sit stiff and uncomfortable beside him. “Nothing all that exciting, but the pay’s better.”

Daehyun sighed, leaning an elbow against the window as he stopped at a red light. “Not to mention it hurts fewer people. Course, Yongguk’s too high on moral superiority to notice that.” He let out a bitter bark of laughter.

“Why do it at all?” Youngjae bit at his lip. “Why not stop him?”

“He’s the leader.” One side of Daehyun’s lip lifted into an unpleasant smile. “Or at least – Himchan refuses to disagree with him. 

“Why?”

“Who knows?” Daehyun said, dismissing the question with an easy shrug.

“You’ve never asked?” Youngjae frowned as Daehyun laughed at his comment.

“Of course not,” he said. He chuckled again. “We’re not friends, Youngjae. We’re – coworkers, at best. It’s his business, not mine. Just like what I do is my business, not any of yours.” It was the first time anyone had referred to the group as though Youngjae was a real part of it. He didn’t like it.

Youngjae frowned, thinking over Daehyun’s comment. “I don’t think the others believe that.”

“Of course they don’t.” Daehyun snorted. “Himchan’s got some crazy idea we’re all family, and Jongup spends his time following Junhong like he’s a baby.” He glanced at Youngjae, whose eyes had widened with Daehyun’s severe judgments. “Don’t look so surprised, babe.”

Youngjae chewed on his lip, trying not to stare at Daehyun. He needed to think everything through before he could even begin to figure out how to respond. Daehyun caught sight of his discomfort, and something softened in his eyes.

“I know it sounds harsh,” he said, his voice now gentle rather than asserting. He smiled at Youngjae. “It’s – different – for them. They’ve been together so long. For us though, we don’t work like that.” Youngjae hadn’t realized Daehyun must be newer to the gang than the others, but he supposed it made sense. There had to be a reason Jongup fixated so much on judging Daehyun’s loyalty when he didn’t question the others.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like anything else. If you’re too close to it, you’re blind. Us? We’re on the outside.” His eyes flicked to Youngjae’s face before returning to the road. “Don’t let them convince you blind loyalty’s better than thinking.

“Besides,” Daehyun continued. “You’re a lot more like me anyway.” His words caught in Youngjae’s chest. He didn’t know how he felt about that judgment.

“How do you know?” Youngjae asked, his voice strained. “That I’m like you.”

Daehyun stopped the car, not speaking as he pulled into a parking lot and stopped. He shut the engine off, turning to face Youngjae. Daehyun’s earnest eyes surprised him.

“It wasn’t all that long ago I was the new one, Youngjae,” Daehyun said. “Just trust me on this. You don’t have what it takes to work these jobs like they do. You’ll only hurt yourself if you get too invested.”

Daehyun tapped him on the shoulder, no doubt meaning for the touch to comfort Youngjae, but he didn’t seem surprised when Youngjae flinched away. He nodded, one single, strong motion, smile still stuck on his face as he got out of the car. Youngjae hesitated before scrambling to follow him, walking towards the restaurant. 

“Your cheek looks a lot better,” Daehyun said as they waited for the host to seat them. “Almost healed.” Youngjae had forgotten about it, long used to the stretch he felt in his face after a week of dealing with the cut. 

“Do I still look scary?” The joke had to sound a little weak, but Daehyun’s lips still twitched, no doubt surprised by it. 

“Sorry to say, I’m still convinced nothing could make you look scary.” Daehyun reached out and ran his fingers down the almost-healed scab. Youngjae’s heart jumped at the touch, and he shifted away, not sure how he felt about Daehyun getting so personal with him.

“What happened to just coworkers?” Youngjae said, frowning as Daehyun dropped his hand.

“I told you before; you aren’t them. You’re different, Youngjae.” Unsure of how to react, Youngjae only nodded, not wanting to continue the conversation when he didn’t know where Daehyun planned to take it. 

They didn’t speak again until they’d been seated and ordered. Once again, Daehyun ordered for both them, even though this restaurant wasn’t as high-class as the other one, and Youngjae had no doubt had food of a similar quality before.

“So how’s training going?” Daehyun asked. “You can still walk, so that’s a good sign.” His voice came out dry, and Youngjae wondered why this time seemed so different than the last. Before, Daehyun had avoided the topic of their current lives, but now he seemed to encourage it. Youngjae figured he’d roll with it, not wanting to ask outright.

“Not too bad, really,” Youngjae said. He bit his lip. No doubt even just a week ago, he’d have complained about Jongup and his threats, but for as hard as Jongup was on him, Youngjae couldn’t deny he also wanted to prepare him.

He didn’t understand Jongup, but it felt like something had changed in the past couple days.

Daehyun looked surprised by his answer. “Good to hear. What’ve you been working on?”

“Oh – um-” For as far as Youngjae had come in two weeks, he didn’t have much to say. Jongup had yet to even teach him how to hold a knife or gun, and Youngjae had mostly focused on the darts and physical conditioning. “Mostly just working on getting my strength up.”

“He hasn’t started on your aim?” Daehyun asked, frowning. “Guns aren’t as easy as they look.”

“I’m practicing with a dartboard. Since – he wants me to figure that out first.” Daehyun’s incredulous look made Youngjae hesitate, and his final words came out quiet and unsure.

“So he’s wasting your time,” Daehyun said, scoffing. “And no doubt making it seem more important than it is. Darts are useless.”

“He said he doesn’t trust me with a gun,” Youngjae said, tapping his fingers together under the table. It sounded stupid in retrospect, and Youngjae felt even worse when Daehyun laughed, throwing his head back and causing others around them to glance over.

Daehyun must have felt the extra eyes, for he leaned in closer and spoke more quietly. “He’s full of shit. Jongup wants you to die out there.” Youngjae leaned away from Daehyun, not able to handle the dark, serious look in his eyes. 

He looked away, seeing the server approach with their meals and letting out a sigh as relief piled up within him at the interruption. She dropped off their food, and Youngjae thanked her, still avoiding Daehyun’s eyes, which felt heavy and obvious on his face.

“I know you don’t want to believe it, but I’m trying to help you,” Daehyun said. “Jongup’s more cunning than he seems. He’s playing games with you that you don’t even realize.”

Youngjae froze, needing time to comprehend Daehyun’s words. There was a lot more to Jongup than he knew – of course Youngjae had realized that.

“He told me he didn’t want me to die.”

“Oh kid, if you’re still believing what anyone says then you’re not going to live long here.” Daehyun chuckled, shaking his head. “With people like this, you can only trust yourself. Not Yongguk. Not Jongup.” He laughed again, this time louder. "I'd say you shouldn't even trust me, but that's a bit of a contradiction."

Youngjae wondered if the others thought like that too, but the image of Junhong fast asleep on Jongup’s shoulder proved they didn’t. Or at least – not all of them did, he thought, as memories of Yongguk’s pointed attempt to keep Jongup from knowing everything flashed through his mind.

“If it’s like that, why do you work together?” Youngjae asked. “Why not work alone?”

“Safety in numbers,” Daehyun said, shrugging and quirking a corner of his lip as though he found the comment amusing. “We’re not the only gang around, and some extra eyes and weapons come in handy whenever anything bad happens.”

That made sense. Youngjae nodded.

“You’re not a fool, Youngjae,” Daehyun said, his eyes softening once again. “I know you aren’t. You know Yongguk’s wrong when he talks about us as if we do good out there.” Daehyun made a vague gesture towards the window. “And I’m sure you’ve noticed what’s wrong with Junhong.” Youngjae hadn’t noticed anything about Junhong. He bit his lip and didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt Daehyun. 

“I’ll help you out here, okay? I can pick you up sometime and start teaching you how to shoot. You need some real training, not Jongup’s games.”

“Really?” Youngjae’s voice rose as Daehyun offered to help him. “But – why?” Daehyun talked so much about moving on and mistrust. Youngjae couldn’t imagine why he’d help him. 

“It took me years to realize all this,” Daehyun said. “Feels good to just – tell someone all of it. I’m not going to let Jongup get you killed because he’s pissy about something.”

“I don’t have a gun,” Youngjae said. “What should I bring –?” 

“I’ll take care of it all,” Daehyun promised. He smiled and chuckled. Youngjae felt a little sick. “I’d tell you to trust me on this, but I just told you not to trust me so?” He smiled wider, even though Youngjae said nothing back. He tried to force a smile on his face, but it felt more like a grimace.

“You’ve barely eaten,” Daehyun said, his smile falling. “Do you not like it?” The sudden switch to such a mundane topic made Youngjae a little dizzy. He took a bite of his food, and it rested heavy in his throat after he swallowed.

His stomach churned, and he looked at the full plate knowing he’d never finish it all. “No, it’s great,” he said, trying to sound excited. Daehyun nodded and smiled again as though he believed Youngjae, despite Youngjae knowing all too well his acting wasn’t on par with Daehyun’s.

“When will you pick me up?” Youngjae asked. “I’m not training with Jongup tomorrow, but I’m also not – in the best shape.” Youngjae imagined he’d feel even worse tomorrow before his muscles finally started feeling even a little better. He didn’t want his first day shooting a gun to happen when he couldn’t even lift his arm without it trembling.

“Not for a few days,” Daehyun said, shaking his head. “I need to prepare for Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” 

Daehyun’s eyes smiled at him, and he rested his elbow on the table, shaking his head with obvious amusement. He didn’t speak until after he’d finished another bite of food. “Have you already forgotten what you did today? I’m meeting Park on Tuesday.”

Oh. Right. Youngjae nodded a couple times, heat rising onto his cheeks as he tried to make it seem like he hadn’t forgotten that. 

“It’s okay,” Daehyun said, his lips still curled into that small smile. “I told you a lot tonight. Makes sense you’d forget some things.”

“What will you do?” Youngjae asked. The food he’d eaten swirled dangerously in his stomach, but he pushed through it. He needed to know everything about this. “To Park?”

Daehyun smiled. “I know I’ve broken my own rules tonight about dinner conversation, but that’s a little far, don’t you think? You’re already struggling to eat, and I listened to your stomach growl the entire way here.”

Youngjae nodded, and when Daehyun raised an eyebrow at him, he forced another bite down. “I guess – I just – I helped with this. I need to know.”

“It’s better if you don’t,” Daehyun said. “Don’t worry about it too much. Keep your conscience in check and all that. You already can’t eat. Let’s just make sure you can sleep.”

Frustration built up in Youngjae as Daehyun brushed him off. Daehyun took a casual bite of his food, nearly finishing it. Youngjae watched in silence as Daehyun flagged down the server and ordered another glass of wine.

He needed to know what would happen to Park Taeseon – even though he already knew. Youngjae could imagine – it was _easy_ to imagine Daehyun dressed in his nice clothes and with his slight accent, shaking hands with Park and sitting across him in his office chair.

It became harder to imagine what happened next, but Youngjae’s mind tried to, stealing shots from old horror movies he’d seen where blood dripped from the walls and Park’s body was broken on the floor, Daehyun leaning over him with blood running down his fancy white shirt.

The food in Youngjae turned to lead at the image, and he thrummed with both exhaustion and anxious energy. 

“You’re upset.” Daehyun sighed. “Look, if you can give me a reason to tell you that’s not you wanting an excuse to feel even more guilty, I will.” Youngjae bit his lip, considering.

The server brought Daehyun’s wine before he could respond, which Daehyun pushed across the table to Youngjae. 

“You need it,” Daehyun said, nodding at him. “Go on.” Youngjae took an obedient sip. It tasted fine, but the strong taste didn’t help the feeling in his stomach.

Daehyun asked the server for a box and the check as Youngjae debated taking another sip. After all Daehyun had done for him, he was acting incredibly rude. Youngjae bit at his lip, taking another small sip and feeling the contents of his stomach shift as he swallowed.

“I didn’t mean to make you sick,” Daehyun said. He leaned forward, concern heavy in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It could have waited.” Youngjae shook his head. He appreciated Daehyun’s attempts to help him. God knows he needed as much help as he could gather.

He took a larger sip of the wine, this time enjoying it more, and by the time Daehyun had taken care of the bill, he’d drained the glass.

“Thank you,” Youngjae said, moving his leftovers into the box and barely daring to glance at Daehyun’s face. Daehyun shook off his thanks.

“I enjoy these,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to anyone like you.”

“Like me?” Youngjae echoed. His stomach let out a loud, protesting groan, and he laid his hand on it, hoping he wouldn't end up getting sick. 

“Innocent. Kind. Sweet.” Daehyun chuckled. “There’s a lot of words for you. Maybe I’m just helping you because I don’t want that to disappear.”

“You want me to be naïve?” Youngjae paused, finally meeting his eyes. Daehyun smiled at him, something soft and knowing in that smile. Youngjae shifted in his seat.

“Naïve implies it’s bad,” Daehyun said, shrugging. “You’re adorable, really. Still think you can do good in the world and everything, I bet. That’s – nice. I like that.”

“Do you not think that?”

“That I can do good?” Daehyun asked, waiting for Youngjae to nod. “I’d like to think I could, but it seems everything I’ve ever done has only made it a little worse.”

“The university might get better without Park Taeseon,” Youngjae said, casting around for some way to challenge Daehyun’s views.

“Careful,” he said dryly. “You sound like Yongguk. We certainly don’t need another philosopher in the gang.” The corner of Daehyun’s lip twitched into a one-sided smirk. “Course, had we taken Park out before you got expelled, maybe I would’ve done some good.”

“It wasn’t Park’s fault,” Youngjae said, immediately protesting Daehyun’s point. “It was mine.”

“You confuse me with that,” Daehyun said. “You were good enough to do it. Without getting caught, I mean. But you didn’t.” His sharp eyes met Youngjae’s. “Why?”

“I didn’t think –”

“You keep saying that,” Daehyun said. “But you’re logical. It’s pretty obvious you like to stop and think before you do anything. So – why didn’t you think? What made it so different?”

Youngjae looked down at the table, playing with his hands. He knew exactly what Daehyun meant; the whole decision to hack the university at all had been out of character for him. But he understood why he did it.

“I – wanted to do something and not think about the consequences. I’ve been following rules my whole life. I wanted to not think about them - just do something and not care.”

Daehyun laughed, hard enough he tilted his head back. Youngjae sank in his seat. “I’ve heard people say that before, but most don’t decide to commit domestic terrorism.”

Anger raced through Youngjae at Daehyun’s thoughtless words, and he stiffened. “I didn’t,” he said, his gaze strong and cold as he met Daehyun’s eyes. Daehyun held it, still calm and collected. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Park thinks you are. Had some choice words for you in his quotes. But you still say he’s blameless. Why?”

Youngjae shook his head, a jerky, almost violent motion. “I thought you were against rationalizing killing him.” He glared, even though he knew most of his anger wasn’t directed at Daehyun. 

Of course, Daehyun seemed to recognize that too, holding up a hand. “I’m not saying that,” he said. “All I’m saying is your expulsion wasn’t all your fault.” He paused, dark eyes surveying Youngjae, who leaned back as his anger dissipated. “I think you’re wrong though.”

“What?”

“About why you did it,” Daehyun said, clarifying. His eyes didn’t leave Youngjae’s face. Anger built up in Youngjae's chest again, and he clenched his fists under the table. “I bet that was part of it – wanting to do something crazy. But not checking your tracks? You got cocky.”

Youngjae said nothing, glaring back at Daehyun as his words hit a little too close to home. Daehyun didn’t stop speaking.

“You know you’re smart. Bet people told you that all the time. So you saw a challenge and decided to take it on, got overconfident, and it bit you in the ass.” Daehyun smiled as though Youngjae’s frown hadn’t been growing deeper with each word he spoke. “Am I right?”

Youngjae had never had someone so blatantly read him like that before. “I – I don’t know?” It surprised him so much his previous anger froze and withered within him. Somehow, he’d never stopped and thought about what Daehyun said, but it seemed so right in retrospect that Youngjae didn’t even know how to argue with it.

Daehyun chuckled, shaking his head. For a long minute, neither spoke. Then Daehyun glanced at his watch and frowned. “You ready?” he asked. “It’s getting late.”

Youngjae nodded, not finding it within him to speak. Biting at his lip, he rolled Daehyun’s words through his mind as he followed him to the car. He’d never thought of himself as the arrogant type. In fact, he’d often criticized himself for questioning his abilities or beliefs when he knew he was correct.

But Daehyun’s words had hit something hard inside of him. He’d need to think about them later.

Right now he had an even bigger thing to consider. In only a few days, Daehyun would walk into Park Taseon’s office and leave a corpse behind. He’d kill Park even if he believed it was unjust, and Youngjae couldn’t fool himself into thinking he played no role in the killing.

The thought hurt to consider. But he had to think about it. Pushing it from his mind left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, sending churning acid towards his throat.

Youngjae couldn’t stop them from killing Park. He’d helped already. In the heat of choosing his life or the life of a man he didn’t know, he’d chosen his own.

Who wouldn’t?

Daehyun glanced at him before they got in his car. He paused, and for once, he looked less confident, fingers tapping against the car to an anxious rhythm. “Listen, Youngjae. I shouldn’t have said all that tonight.”

“It’s fine.” Youngjae tried to smile, going to walk around him to the passenger side, but Daehyun held up a hand, stopping him. He ran a hand through his hair, and Youngjae almost thought he caught a tinge of red on Daehyun’s face, illuminated by the gleaming streetlights. 

“No, it’s not,” Daehyun said. He grimaced. “Truth is, I always have a little trouble pushing all that from my mind. I took you out tonight for a distraction, and instead only made it worse for you.” Youngjae hesitated, hating how exhausted Daehyun looked when he didn’t hold his head high.

“You – feel guilty? But you said –?” Youngjae moved a little closer, wishing he could offer Daehyun comfort in some way. He didn’t know how. What could he do – hug him? For as touchy as Daehyun had been, Youngjae could imagine him taking kindly to that.

Daehyun made the decision for him, reaching out and looping an arm around Youngjae’s waist and pulling him so he stood next to Daehyun, leaning against the car. For a long minute, they stared out and watched cars pass on the street.

Daehyun leaned in closer to lay his head on Youngjae’s shoulder, sighing. His breath hit Youngjae’s neck, and Youngjae just managed to conceal a shiver. 

“We all find our ways to keep going,” Daehyun said. “I like to think I’m different than Yongguk, but maybe we’re all just trying to pretend we’re good people.”

And with that, Daehyun clapped him on the shoulder and moved away, getting into the car. It took Youngjae a moment to comprehend the motion, still rolling Daehyun’s words through his mind. His hands trembled as he made his way around the car, getting in and watching Daehyun. He’d already regained his composure – if what happened before even counted as losing it. 

Youngjae watched the city go by, bright lights smearing together through the windshield. Daehyun pulled to a stop at a red light, glancing at him. He sighed, bringing one hand to rest on Youngjae’s shoulder. Youngjae tried not to stiffen under his touch.

“Remember,” Daehyun said, squeezing his shoulder harder. Youngjae focused on him, drawing his mind from the mess of thoughts. “Anything to sleep at night.”

The light turned green, and the motion gave Youngjae the illusion that Seoul was moving – not them. As though the entire city rushed outside their windows, tugging them along with it as it raced towards the unknown.

Dizzy from watching the motion, Youngjae rested a hand on the car door, trying to ground himself.

The vibrations only shook him more as the city continued to race all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) As always I'd love some feedback!


	8. Power Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think I can do it, hyung.” Youngjae saw Yongguk stiffen from the corner of his eye, but he pretended not to see it, only looking up when neither Yongguk nor Himchan responded. “I – oh, sorry,” Youngjae said, still playing with his lip and looking between Himchan and Yongguk with wide eyes. “Should I not –?”
> 
> “No, it’s fine,” Yongguk said, shaking his head. His heavy eyes stared at Youngjae, who couldn’t read them. “It’s fine.” His throat worked as he swallowed hard.

The next morning greeted him with a harsh headache. Youngjae groaned, flopping a hand over his face and stretching. His back cracked, a single, painful pop, no doubt caused by spending yet another night stretched out along a couch. Not that he’d managed much sleep anyway. 

Daehyun’s words had rung through his head, leaving him to spend the majority of the night staring into the darkness and wondering why he ended up here. Sure, he’d lost his apartment, but he did have friends – and family. 

Youngjae hated thinking about his family. From how he’d avoided contacting them after his expulsion to the fact they never contacted him, Youngjae didn’t want to know what they thought of him anymore. 

They thought he’d been a perfect son: intelligent, relatively sensible (hah), solid plans for the future. Youngjae sighed, moving to sit up and rest his head in his hands.

They must be so ashamed of him.

As they should be – he now worked with a gang.

He wanted to blame it on Jongup so badly. Youngjae wanted to convince himself he was so scared of Jongup following him and hurting him that he’d remain with the gang until he could guarantee his safety.

He grimaced at the thought, trailing his fingers down the raised scar on his face. The touch brought the reminder of Daehyun’s hand following the same path, and Youngjae could almost feel the warmth of it again.

Youngjae’s head swam as he forced himself to lift it again, grimacing as he rubbed at his burning eyes. He couldn’t bear to sit still any longer. Standing still hurt, and he twisted his back until he heard another loud pop, which only made it worse.

His thoughts hung heavy and painful around him, and he fought with them for a few minutes before realizing he couldn’t keep sitting there. An exhausted restlessness settled over Youngjae, and he started to wander around the old office, realizing he knew little of what surrounded him, except for the bathroom and small kitchen he used.

Youngjae wandered through the rooms. Most were conference rooms, no doubt for meetings and offices. In one, he found an old stack of leaflets advertising old electronics. Flicking the lights on as he walked, he moved through the hallway to the last room at the end. 

Another office, but this one had been cleaned out and changed. It now had a cheap bed in it, though it didn’t seem like anyone had lived there for quite a while. Perhaps he could use it. Sleeping on a couch had quickly lost its appeal.

Youngjae moved into their normal meeting room. It looked bigger without the others in it and seeing it brought a rush of panic through him. He turned, not allowing himself to hesitate, and walked back the way he’d come.

Turning down another short hallway, Youngjae tapped his fingers against his pants as he walked. The eerie silence of the building unnerved him, and his heart jumped up in his chest as he moved through it. He paused at a door, frowning when he saw the light streaming out from under it.

Youngjae almost knocked, his hand pressing against the heavy wood before he thought better of it and pulled it open. The overhead lights were off, but a lamp had been left on. He stepped into the room, feet sliding without a sound on the nice carpet as he looked around.

Walking closer, he began to hear a quiet voice from one of the other rooms. Despite straining his ears, he couldn’t make out the words. Youngjae couldn’t place the voice until another person answered – this time deep and softer. Yongguk. He figured Himchan must be the other speaker.

Youngjae knew better than to interrupt them, but he couldn’t help but hesitate beyond the doors, wishing he could hear them better. He thought he understood Yongguk, especially with what Daehyun had told him, but he knew nothing about Himchan.

Youngjae took another tentative step forward, unsure if he could risk getting closer to them. The floor creaked under his feet, and he froze, heart jumping at the sound. Himchan and Yongguk continued to talk. Youngjae shook his head, clenching his hands into fists until his heart calmed.

He couldn’t risk them finding him. Youngjae wasn’t sure how important he was to them now that he’d helped them with Park and didn’t dare risk provoking them to find out.

Flicking the lights off as he retreated, Youngjae returned to the area he recognized. He passed the room with the bed and stepped inside, wondering if he could use it. Whoever stayed there before him left no trace of personality in the room, only an old cream-colored sheet and a small blue blanket covered the bed. 

He looked through the drawers, but whoever lived there had cleaned those out too. Youngjae figured he’d move his backpack there later, considering it clearly had been abandoned. For now, he got ready, knowing that despite how poorly he slept, he couldn’t bear to lay down for any longer.

With nothing else to do, Youngjae took a walk. He stared down the streets that terrified him that first night, trailing his hands down the bricks and even finding the same dumpster Jongup choked him against. 

It seemed like so much time past between then and now that Youngjae checked his phone calendar to prove it had only been a little over two weeks. In some ways, he’d changed so much, while in others, he hadn’t changed at all.

If Jongup threatened him again like he had that night, Youngjae would still have no chance of getting away, but he thought he’d be a little less scared than before, perhaps because he’d grown more confident – or perhaps he’d become more used to Jongup threatening him.

Youngjae planned on walking without a destination in mind, but he found himself following the same path he had to the warehouse where he worked with Jongup. With nothing better to do and restless thoughts stuck on his mind, he walked the miles until he reached it. He tried to ignore the irony that he walked there on his day off, but in truth, the distance seemed less now he'd become accustomed to it

He went inside, flicking the lights on and staring out across the wide room. The dartboards caught his eye, and he walked over, grabbing the darts even as Daehyun’s words echoed through his mind. 

He clenched them in his hand as he walked back from the board. It seemed so obvious that Jongup wasted his time with these darts. Youngjae had known that since the first day. Jongup hadn’t even pretended the darts had a use; he’d only told Youngjae to figure them out.

Including the broken one. He could recognize it by sight now, too used to the minuscule differences to miss them. Youngjae still had no idea what Jongup wanted him to do with it. Pulling it from the others, he ran his finger along the too-blunt edge. 

He let it slip through his fingers and strike the ground. 

Selecting another one, Youngjae threw the dart, his body falling into the routine he’d become used to with Jongup at his side. Youngjae clenched his hand tight around the other as the dart stuck in the board. Bullseye.

Not that it mattered.

Jongup wanted him to die.

Youngjae threw another dart, anger running through him and making him overthrow it. It stuck hard in the very top of the board. He had believed every goddamn word Jongup said too. Youngjae knew what kind of person he was, but he’d allowed himself to think Jongup planned to actually teach him.

He should’ve known better. Youngjae looked down at the final dart, clenching his jaw as he bent to pick it up. Adjusting it in his hand, recognizing how familiar the motion had become, he threw it. It bounced off the board and dropped to the ground.

He’d believed Jongup. Youngjae had nodded along and even began to… not enjoy training with Jongup but certainly not dread it either.

He’d been an idiot. Walking over to the board, Youngjae scooped the broken dart off the ground, fisting his hand around it. He didn’t trust Jongup; he didn’t trust any of them. Daehyun was right. If he wanted to make it through this, he needed to stay wary. He’d started counting the days Jongup didn’t threaten to kill him as good days, for God’s sake. 

Youngjae had promised himself he would consider all options before making decisions. The situation leading to his expulsion wouldn’t happen again, he told himself. 

He was damn lucky Daehyun took pity on him.

Youngjae picked the dart up, leaning over to the board and trying to force it in. It stuck in the bullseye. He’d yet to manage to hit the board and get it to stay, but it clearly could. 

The tip had broken in a way that left the remaining piece slanted, and Youngjae noticed forcing it to stick in the board meant turning it so it hit the hole at an angle. He’d taken enough physics to know he’d never manage that angle while throwing it.

He laid the broken dart on the top of the board, deciding not to bother with it. The darts lent him a simple calm, a way for him to think and stay busy. Just because he enjoyed throwing the darts didn’t mean he needed to play Jongup’s games and try to figure out the broken one.

Youngjae grabbed the other darts, moving back to the line and throwing them again. He fell into a rhythm, letting a couple hours pass before his eyes began to droop. His arms still hurt, and Youngjae knew Jongup expected him for training in two days. He couldn’t afford to waste too much energy. 

Youngjae stepped back from the board again. He aimed carefully, squinting at the board and pausing to rub his eye when one watered from his concentration. Youngjae threw one of the good darts, and it struck the board in the bullseye. He grinned, throwing the second.

Another bullseye. 

Youngjae clenched his fists, anger coursing through him as he realized he’d almost managed what Jongup wanted from him. All except the damn broken dart. He stalked over, grabbing the broken dart. 

Jongup either planned on wasting his time or wanted him to figure something out. For all Daehyun said, Youngjae couldn’t ignore the flicker within him that wanted to believe Jongup.

He didn’t believe Jongup. He didn’t believe anyone.

Not even Daehyun. For as helpful as he’d been, Youngjae couldn’t deny that Daehyun wasn’t as loyal as the others thought. He’d made that quite clear to Youngjae. With a confidence that still shocked Youngjae, Daehyun had told him things that Jongup would kill him for saying. Jongup thought Daehyun brought unnecessary risks, and Youngjae almost had to agree.

Plus, the others didn’t trust Daehyun – or did they? Yongguk had prevented Jongup, not Daehyun, from learning the extra information. Daehyun had helped plan the hit. 

Maybe they called themselves family, but no one trusted anyone. Except Junhong and Jongup no doubt trusted each other and so did Himchan and Yongguk.

He sighed, playing with the darts in his hand. Youngjae didn’t know much about them, not yet. He knew enough to not trust any of them completely though. For now, he’d just need to wait and observe until he had a chance to get away.

Setting the darts back down on top of the board, a small shelf to the left of the board Jongup used for knives caught his eye. The glint of metal shone from the shelf, and he stepped over to it, realizing Jongup had knives stacked on it.

Youngjae frowned, picking one up. He’d never seen Jongup touch these ones; he always used the small knife he carried with him. Looking across the shelf, he saw several whetstones to sharpen the knives. That made sense; he’d watched Jongup play with the edge of his knife enough to know it was quite blunt, no doubt from hitting the dart board so many times. 

He froze, still staring at the whetstones. Sharpeners. The dart’s blunt edge was the problem; he couldn’t make it stick with the current tip. 

Youngjae grabbed the broken dart, moving closer to the whetstones. He trailed his fingers down the rough edge before moving the dart to it. The height felt awkward, so he took the stone and moved to the ground, kneeling next to it. 

He moved the dart closer to his face to tell which side to run along the stone. His hand shook as he neared it to the stone, but he pressed forward, sliding it back and forth along the scratchy stone, putting light pressure on it. 

Youngjae finished ten strokes before he pulled the dart away and looked at it. The tip looked better; he could see a clear change in it. Running a finger along the edge, he could tell it had become sharper. A grin grew on his face as he returned to the whetting stone, running it along ten more times before looking at it again.

This time, when he tapped a finger against the tip, it punctured his finger. He gasped, pulling it away by reflex as a dot of blood appeared on his skin.

Sharp enough. Youngjae stood up again, wiping dust off his pants. He held his shoulders higher, some of his fatigue falling off him as a smile forced its way onto his face. Considering what Daehyun said, Youngjae shouldn’t care how well he did at this. He should never touch a dart again because he knew Jongup only wasted his time with them.

But he’d figured it out. Grinning, Youngjae moved back to the line, realizing only when he looked back at the board that he’d forgotten the other two darts. No matter. 

He raised the dart, taking a deep breath before he threw it. The broken dart stuck hard in the board, only centimeters from the bullseye. Youngjae stared at it, his hand still extended in front of him as he processed the shock. He did it. A loud laugh escaped him, echoing through the warehouse. A ridiculous sort of euphoria rushed through him. He had done that. For all he’d changed in the last couple weeks, this was the first time he’d decided something and solved something on his own. 

Everything he did these days depended on what the gang wanted him to do. From his training to meeting Daehyun for dinner, everything was orchestrated by others and he only got dragged along into it all. 

But the darts – sure, Jongup had forced them into his hand, but making this dart work, coming here today? Youngjae had done that. It meant a lot, considering the crazy spiral he’d been thrown into. 

Maybe he could control what happened to him. Even in an impossible situation, he could figure everything out. 

The others held his life above his head, and the chance to return to his old life had long disappeared. But didn’t Youngjae hold the final cards? After all, he could set the darts down and call the police. 

Part of him loved the idea of making his own decision like that and not playing into the gang’s hands. He wanted to see Jongup’s angry face as they dragged him away in handcuffs.

Youngjae imagined Yongguk’s eyes staring after him as he realized what had happened. He didn’t know Yongguk well enough to imagine what emotion would be in them – surprise? Anger? Something sadistic and furious in Youngjae wanted to see that exact face in real life, figure out the answer to that question.

Youngjae wouldn’t feel remorse for turning them in – sure, Yongguk had protected him that night, but he’d needed protection because of Jongup. They were a gang. No matter what Yongguk believed – that his vigilante crime would do good in the world – Youngjae knew the truth. They belonged in jail, all of them. 

Even Daehyun.

He might regret it with Daehyun, mostly because he knew Daehyun would stare after him with those cold, blank eyes. He wouldn’t look surprised because he didn’t trust Youngjae, because he’d no doubt considered someone might betray him.

Daehyun’s face heavy in his mind, Youngjae stepped over to the board again. Before he could grab the darts, his phone rang. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice coming out strong and steady despite how the number that had called him was unlisted. “Who is this?”

“Where are you?” He could recognize Yongguk’s deep voice even through the crackle of a poor connection.

“Just walking around,” Youngjae said. “Why?”

“We need to talk. Come back here.” Yongguk sounded impatient. Youngjae wondered if something had happened, or if he just hadn’t wanted Youngjae to do anything for himself, and instead wanted Youngjae to remain at his every beck and call. 

Youngjae clenched his jaw when it became clear Yongguk didn’t plan on giving more details. 

“Talk about what?” Youngjae asked, grabbing his backpack and leaving the darts stuck in the board. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He wasn’t running those four miles – not on his day off. Yongguk could wait until he got there.

The phone clicked in his ear, leaving Youngjae to frown at it. Sighing, he slipped it back into his pocket and began the walk back. Youngjae pausing, contemplating not returning and ignoring Yongguk’s call. But he couldn’t. 

For now, they still controlled him.

He took his time, arriving back in a little over an hour. He set off towards the meeting room, but Youngjae heard a deep laugh come from his couch. Frowning, he changed directions, moving through the hallway to where he slept.

Youngjae slipped into the room to the sound of Himchan’s deep laughter. He’d never heard him sound anything but impassive, and the laughter made him pause, eyeing Himchan with surprise as he slapped Yongguk’s shoulder.

Himchan leaned back against the couch, legs spread and stretched out in front of him. Yongguk almost faced him, his legs resting in Himchan’s lap as they spoke. Himchan had grabbed his shoulder, and the grip looked almost painfully tight, but Yongguk didn’t mind, if his own smile said anything.

Youngjae glanced away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make his presence known without it becoming awkward. He’d stepped into a personal moment – which made Himchan cut his laugh off as he noticed Youngjae. Yongguk also turned to face him, and Youngjae moved into one of the empty chairs, not wanting to join them on the couch.

Yongguk slid out of Himchan’s grasp, moving a comfortable distance away from him. Youngjae pretended to not notice that they’d been nearly on top of each other. 

Neither of them spoke, both watching Youngjae, who tried to contain his fidgets. Finally, he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“What did you need me for?” he asked, clipping his words short.

“We need you to hack into security cameras tomorrow. Can you do it?” Yongguk asked, short and sweet. His previous amusement had disappeared from his face, and his words came out business-like and quiet. Himchan kept his eyes on Youngjae.

“I – told you I’ve never done that before,” Youngjae said, trying to rack his brain for how he’d hack into a camera. “Is it university security or personal security?”

“University, of course,” Himchan said, a condescending note appearing in his tone as though Youngjae had asked a stupid question. Youngjae bit back a retort.

“What company does the university use then?” Youngjae asked, impatient. Neither Yongguk nor Himchan answered him, which he took as a sign that neither knew. Youngjae sighed, forcing back a snort. “I can’t hack something when I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I need to know whether it’s an outside company or behind the university’s firewall.”

“But if you know then you can?”

“Probably?” Youngjae shrugged. “I never have before, but it can’t be too different. What do you need me to do?”

“It would make things less messy if they don’t have footage of Daehyun entering his office tomorrow.”

“So I just need to shut them down for a couple minutes?” Youngjae frowned. He could crash a server with relative ease, and security cameras couldn’t be too different than that. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Yongguk said. “It’s not vital, but it’s helpful.” Youngjae pulled out his laptop, focusing on the screen as he looked up the university’s webpage to find their security provider.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Himchan and Yongguk share a glance before focusing on watching him. Seeing them again reminded him of what Daehyun told him: how Himchan and Yongguk protected Junhong even more because of his use of honorifics.

Youngjae could use extra safety, especially considering how Himchan still seemed suspicious of him. Biting his lip, he focused on the screen, making sure to seem absorbed in the work.

He made a quiet “aha!” when he found the provider and grinned at the screen.

“I think I can do it, hyung.” He saw Yongguk stiffen from the corner of his eye, but he pretended not to see it, only looking up when neither Yongguk nor Himchan responded. “I – oh, sorry,” Youngjae said, still playing with his lip and looking between Himchan and Yongguk with wide eyes. “Should I not –?”

“No, it’s fine,” Yongguk said, shaking his head. His heavy eyes stared at Youngjae, who couldn’t read them. “It’s fine.” His throat worked as he swallowed hard. Youngjae nodded, turning towards Himchan to focus on him. Himchan met his gaze with calm, even eyes.

“Can I –?” he cut off, unsure of if he should even ask Himchan, considering they’d yet to talk at all. Himchan said nothing, but just as Youngjae prepared to look away, he nodded. Youngjae nodded back, smiling even though Himchan didn’t return it. 

“Thank you for helping me,” Youngjae said. He wondered if he was overdoing it, but a smile grew across Yongguk’s face. Himchan’s eyes didn’t leave his face, and Youngjae wondered if he was judging his intentions. “You could have left me out there.”

Yongguk nodded, and the tender smile on his face made Youngjae hesitate as a pang of guilt knotted his stomach. “No need to thank me,” he said. “You’ve already made it worth it.” He gestured towards the computer.

“Still, I’m sorry for causing problems here.” Youngjae focused more on Himchan as he spoke, fiddling with his hands. He was pushing it, no doubt. Himchan’s eyes followed him far more closely than Yongguk’s, and Youngjae wondered if he suspected anything. “With Jongup and all that, I mean.”

Something in Himchan’s face softened, wrinkles disappearing as he continued to watch Youngjae. “It can be difficult here,” he said. “There can be tension. It’s not your fault.” The image of Jongup as he threatened Himchan ran through Youngjae’s mind.

No one had tried to stop Jongup; no one had acted as though it were rare. Himchan hadn't even gotten angry.

“I’ll do better though,” Youngjae promised. He bit his lip again. “I owe you.”

“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Himchan said, his words coming out strained. The knot of guilt tightened in Youngjae’s stomach as he realized he’d successfully deceived Himchan. He willed it away. Himchan and Yongguk were murderers who saw the world through rose-tinted glasses. 

Daehyun and Jongup were right about them. Youngjae couldn’t trust Himchan and Yongguk.

He couldn’t trust any of them.

“You’ll like working with us,” Yongguk said. “We have our problems, but we’re family.”

Youngjae recalled Daehyun denying that Yongguk and Himchan were anything more than coworkers. He remembered Jongup threatening to murder Himchan. Even Junhong seemed mostly uninterested in them.

Youngjae nodded as though none of that ever happened. “Maybe I can be a part of that too, hyung.” His voice came out tentative, as though he was unsure he’d be accepted. 

Yongguk grinned at him, and even Himchan looked at him with a soft smile. Youngjae took that as a promise that he would join their family – or at least, he would join in what they believed was family.

“You’ve been a big help, Youngjae,” Himchan said. “We should be thanking you.”

“No need,” Youngjae said. “You were right about Park.” The lies weighed down his tongue, and he cleared his throat so he could speak better. “I’m happy to help.” He met their eyes, and as they smiled back at him, Youngjae felt larger, more in control of his own life than he had felt in a long time, perhaps more in-control than he’d ever felt. 

Lies hung in the air, masquerading as promises, and a false smile stretched across his lips.

Youngjae wondered if power always felt this good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are a-happening :) As always feedback is very appreciated!


	9. Paying For Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Park was angry,” Daehyun said, some amusement coloring his voice. “He didn’t realize we were meeting until this morning. Assumed I was a student. I told him I was studying journalism, and my professor had scheduled this interview with him months ago.” Daehyun grinned, a new light appearing in his eyes. “I asked him about you.” Youngjae flinched as Daehyun spun to face him. "He said you're dangerous."

Youngjae stared at his screen, fingers flying over the keyboard as he tried to get into the security system. He wished for the umpteenth time that the university controlled it, so he’d only have to hack into the university server to take care of it.

He supposed the private company controlled it because of that; the security had proven hellish to deal with. A heavy frown creased his face, and he sighed, feeling the effects of a headache which had started hours ago when he first began to realize how hard the protection was to get through.

“I’m almost in,” Youngjae said, stretching the truth a little because he wasn’t positive this algorithm would work. Either way, he only had this final obstacle to get through before he could take the security down. Fucking finally.

Yongguk repeated his words into his phone, signaling Daehyun, who lingered somewhere nearby Park’s office. The meeting would start in fifteen minutes. 

Youngjae’s mind wanted to wander over to consider how Daehyun looked, how he concealed his gun, how he planned to kill Park but leave his secretary unharmed – or if he planned to kill the secretary too. With a rough shake of his head and an annoyed fluff of his hair, Youngjae expelled those thoughts.

He couldn’t forget the task in front of him. His algorithm flickered across the screen, words rolling through, testing passwords and playing with combinations of letters, numbers, and symbols. It moved too fast for him to read, but his trained eyes moved with the words, scanning them as well as he could.

The screen locked for a second, one combination freezing and flashing bright enough to light up his face. Youngjae had just enough time for a smile to grow across his lips before a green box stretched across his computer screen.

“I’m in,” he said. “Daehyun can go in now. I’ll take it down for twenty seconds.” Taking it down simplified matters; he’d learned how to freeze the camera on a single shot, disabling it for several seconds before it rebooted and returned to working order.

They’d know what happened as soon as they looked at the tapes, but Youngjae figured that didn’t matter, considering Daehyun planned to leave bodies behind anyway.

Yongguk nodded, relaying the information to Daehyun. “Ready?” Yongguk asked. 

Youngjae nodded, meeting Yongguk’s eyes for a flash before dropping to the computer. “Now,” he said, pressing the space bar and watching the image flicker and then freeze. It wasn't an interesting shot, only focusing on the door and not the waiting room. Even with it on after Daehyun went inside, they'd see nothing of him. 

Yongguk passed that on to Daehyun, hanging up before the camera had turned on again. As soon as it did, Youngjae closed his laptop. No point in watching the door for forty-five minutes. He didn't want to think about what was happening inside.

Daehyun knew to leave at exactly five. Youngjae glanced at the clock. Quarter after four.

“So what now?” he asked. Adrenaline pumped through him, and he longed to do something, _anything_ to keep him from remembering Daehyun was out there speaking with Park.

Youngjae could imagine him, plopping down into a seat in the waiting room, shaking his head with sympathy when the secretary told him she hadn’t noticed the appointment until a couple days ago. Maybe he’d apologize, leaning forward in his chair and frowning, offering to reschedule all the while knowing he wouldn't do it.

“Now we wait,” Himchan said, and Youngjae jolted, jerking out of thoughts about Daehyun. “Daehyun will call once he’s finished.” Youngjae nodded, his eyes dropping to look at his hands. He fiddled with them, tapping his fingers against the thick wooden table. His laptop caught his eye, and he winced, looking even further down, now at his lap.

Himchan sighed, and Youngjae looked back up, realizing Himchan’s eyes hadn’t left his face. “How are you doing?”

“What?” Youngjae hadn’t expected that, and his eyebrows climbed up his face. Himchan raised one of his own in return. 

“How are you handling this?” Himchan repeated. His voice remained light, but Youngjae could see the empathy in his eyes. Perhaps he remembered the first time he helped kill a man.

Youngjae wondered if his first had been a man like Park too. He shrugged. “I’m okay.” He couldn’t look at Himchan, instead dropping his eyes to the table. A deck of cards sat in the middle, pulled into an imperfect pile. He rested his eyes on it, not letting them stray to look up at Himchan again.

Himchan paused, and Youngjae got the feeling he wanted to push further. Then he sighed, and Youngjae dared a glance up, just in time to see him nod. 

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Himchan’s serious gaze focused on him, and Youngjae could see he understood more about how Youngjae felt than he would say.

The empathetic tone of Himchan’s gaze caused sparks of anger to echo through Youngjae. How dare Himchan look at him as though he understood, meanwhile Himchan and the others had forced him into this role? He gritted his teeth, looking away. His eyes froze on his laptop again, jumpstarting his heart and making him shake his head to rid himself of those thoughts.

Youngjae leaned back, closing his eyes and trying to think. With a quick glance to the clock, Youngjae saw almost twenty-five minutes had passed. Only twenty more minutes until he would take the cameras down again so Daehyun could leave.

Daehyun, with his small frame and dark eyes, currently stared down Park – or perhaps Park was dead, and Daehyun only sat in one of his chairs, proud of his accomplishment and watching the clock tick closer and closer to five. 

Park Taeseon had done bad things. Youngjae remembered his presence at his hearing, though he couldn’t remember his face. He’d felt so sick the entire time – watching his future crumble, knowing no one would listen to him.

The memory of that day brought such a rush of horror and terror and anger that Youngjae’s eyes snapped back open. He couldn’t think about it.

He shouldn’t think about it. Youngjae had promised himself he wouldn’t judge Park based on his own experiences. It wasn’t Park’s fault he’d been expelled. Even so, could Youngjae really forget it?

Himchan and Yongguk had to notice his sudden discomfort, and Youngjae felt their eyes weighing on him. They didn’t speak until Yongguk pointed out that Youngjae needed to take the camera down in ten minutes, as though Youngjae hadn’t been staring at the clock for the entire time.

Youngjae flipped open his laptop, tapping the table as he watched the clock wind down. He took a deep breath, trying to distract himself. The bedroom he'd found occurred to him, and he glanced at Himchan and Yongguk, wondering if he should bring it up.

"I was walking around yesterday," Youngjae said, faltering when both of them snapped their gazes up to meet his. "Just - um - looking. But I found a bedroom. Is it okay if I use it?"

They stared at him for another moment, and he couldn't read either of their gazes. Finally, they shared a look, and Himchan nodded. "Do whatever you like. No one's using it anymore." Youngjae nodded, fiddling with his hands and glancing at the clock. Two minutes.

This time, Youngjae took the cameras down for thirty seconds, hesitating to make sure Daehyun had the time he needed to get out. Daehyun called Yongguk before Youngjae brought them back on, clearly not needing those extra seconds.

Youngjae closed his laptop, watching Yongguk smile at Daehyun’s words. No doubt Daehyun had succeeded. Yongguk lowered the phone, catching Youngjae watching him.

“Daehyun’s okay,” Yongguk said, interpreting Youngjae’s nervous look as concern. His assumption made something twist and tighten in his stomach. Daehyun just confirmed Park’s death, and Yongguk thought he worried about Daehyun? “He got out fine.”

“Park’s dead then?” Youngjae didn’t have to ask. He knew the answer, but the question dropped from his numb lips anyway. Yongguk nodded. He had the audacity to smile, and Youngjae wondered how someone could see the world in such a broken, twisted way.

“City’s a better place because of it,” Yongguk promised. “Even your university.” Youngjae held back a comment that it wasn’t his university. “It’s a good thing, Youngjae. We did good today.”

Yongguk called it good as though he saw the cards laid out in front of him. He spoke as though killing one corrupt man destroyed an entire corrupt system.

Youngjae knew nothing would change in the university, but everything changed for Park. He wondered if Park had a family. Had Daehyun shot him while he sat at a desk covered with his children’s pictures and drawings?

Youngjae could see Yongguk weighing the cards in his hand, putting a price on the life of a man – because judging life and death required that. Yongguk had compared the bad Park had done – and what had he even done? Youngjae’s memory had blurred; he couldn’t remember – to the bad of taking Park’s life.

Somehow, he’d concluded killing Park would improve the university, Seoul, and hell, maybe he even thought he changed the world. 

Youngjae only saw the short-range change. He imagined Park’s poor secretary finding his body. Park’s family would attend his funeral; perhaps his wife would cry over the casket and his children –

Bile rose in Youngjae’s throat, and though he tried to choke it down, he had to rush to the bathroom. He trembled, shaking as he threw up into the toilet. Panic urged his limbs to run away from the warehouse, to run until he found someone who could help him.

Yesterday, he’d manipulated Yongguk and Himchan and loved the feeling of it. Today, he helped kill a man. Youngjae remembered Daehyun’s words about how easy it was to fall into this way of life. He never would have believed him – hell, Youngjae hadn’t spared the comment much thought.

Violent shudders ran the length of his body, as he stared into the mirror, seeing dark bags under his eyes and his too-pale face.

He couldn’t escape this, not with Jongup’s threats stuck onto his back. All he could do was stick with Daehyun and hope he’d make it through to the other side. Except – Daehyun had adapted enough to kill a man. Anything to sleep at night, he’d said. 

Youngjae didn’t agree, but did it matter? Whatever he thought, he’d just assisted in killing a man, and now he’d never get rid of that. 

“Temporary.” Youngjae whispered the word as though it was a promise. “This is temporary.” 

False promise. The guilt of killing Park Taeseon would last forever.

He stared into the mirror, hands pressing into the cold ceramic of the sink until he warmed it. Youngjae would make it through this. He needed to look for a way out and figure out a plan. Until then, he would take Daehyun’s advice.

A hard knock on the door startled him, and he jumped, ramming his leg into the counter and swearing. “Youngjae?” It was Yongguk. “Are you okay?”

He took another deep breath, stepping away from the counter and rubbing his leg. Youngjae pulled the door open, coming face-to-face with Yongguk. “I’m fine. Just needed a minute.” Yongguk hesitated, and Youngjae got the feeling he wanted to press further.

Like Himchan, he backed off instead.

“Is Daehyun coming back here?” Youngjae asked, hoping to move their conversation away from him. 

“Mhmm. Junhong and Jongup are as well. We need to split the payment.” 

Oh right. Youngjae had totally forgotten they’d pay him. “How much is it?” His stomach rolled with the question, and he rested a hand against the wall to stabilize his nausea. How easy it became to put a price on life.

“We’ll figure that out when we split it.” Yongguk hesitated, seeing his discomfort. He laid a light hand on Youngjae’s shoulder, but even the airy touch made him flinch away. Yongguk held it tighter, not moving it away. “Talk to me, Youngjae.”

He shrugged, not sure what to say, not when Yongguk’s words already made him so sick. 

“You’re a part of this now,” Yongguk said, as though Youngjae didn’t already know that. He locked his jaw, pressing down more flares of anger, which licked at his chest and made him clench his fists. “We’re here for you.”

Youngjae nodded, not saying anything and slipping his hands into his jean pockets, where he could dig his nails into his thighs without Yongguk noticing to control his anger.

When they returned to the meeting room, Himchan was gone, but Yongguk didn’t seem concerned by it.

They waited for the others in their meeting room, and after fewer than five minutes, the door opened. Jongup and Junhong came in, and Junhong greeted Yongguk with a bright “hello, hyung!”

“Where is he?” Jongup asked, cutting off Yongguk before he could even begin to answer. His voice sounded louder than normal, and Jongup clenched his fists. “Where’s Himchan?” Youngjae’s eyes widened as he watched it unfold. He’d grown decent at reading Jongup’s moods, but even with how Jongup’s hands clenched and unclenched, it didn’t seem like normal anger.

Jongup’s shoulders had tightened, but that didn’t stop them from trembling.

“He’s fine,” Yongguk said, holding a hand up. “He’ll be back in a minute.” Jongup nodded and took his seat, but his eyes continued to flick towards the empty seat. He sat with his back stiffer than normal, but the angry line of his mouth prevented Youngjae from watching for too long.

Youngjae wondered if Himchan had pissed Jongup off for some reason, but Jongup tilted his head as Himchan returned, watching him and finally the anger faded away, the corners of his lips rising into a soft smile. Himchan barely spared Jongup a glance, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Youngjae frowned, his eyes sliding between the two. Had Jongup been worried for Himchan? Considering the previous threats, it seemed unlikely, but Youngjae couldn’t think of another explanation.

“Hey, hyung.” Junhong smiled at Himchan, who greeted him back. Somehow the small greeting lightened something in Himchan’s face – or perhaps how Junhong looked in general caused it.

He grinned, looking more invested in the happenings of the meetings than Youngjae had ever seen him. Both Himchan and Yongguk had reacted to his brighter composure. But even with his apparent happiness, the deep bags under Junhong’s eyes were obvious, and his hands still trembled. 

Youngjae recalled Daehyun mentioning something wrong with Junhong, and Youngjae thought he could see it now. He wondered if Junhong was sick. Daehyun made it sound like something long-term, and with Junhong’s thin form and haggard appearance, Youngjae couldn’t think of many other possibilities.

The bags under Jongup’s eyes nearly matched the intensity of Junhong’s. He still didn’t speak, his eyes running over the table and those seated around it. When he saw Youngjae watching, he didn’t even glare. Youngjae still looked away.

“It went well then?” Junhong asked. “Daehyun managed it?” His fingers drummed on the table. Yongguk flicked his lighter. The two together created a strange, anxious melody. Youngjae’s heart jumped to follow it, and he leaned back, trying to take deep breaths.

Himchan nodded. “He’s on his way back now.”

“Great,” Junhong said, smiling. He tilted his head back, resting it against the back of the seat and staring up towards the ceiling. “See, Jonguppie? I told you Daehyun could do it.” Jongup scoffed, but Youngjae wasn’t sure if it was because of the nickname or Junhong’s statement. 

“How have you been, Junhong?” Yongguk asked, abruptly changing the subject. Jongup stiffened, glaring at Yongguk, but Junhong only smiled, closing his eyes.

“Good. I’m good.” The positive answer only made Jongup’s frown deepen. “No complaints here.” Youngjae noticed a dimple on his cheek which grew with his boyish smile.

“How old are you?” Youngjae said, the question jumping out of his mouth before he could stop it. “You – you look so young?”

“Fuck off,” Jongup said, almost snarling the words as he jumped to Junhong’s defense.

“Whoa, Jongup,” Junhong said, opening his eyes to look at Jongup and rest a hand on his shoulder. “I can answer. You’re like my guard dog or something.” He grinned, and Jongup backed off, not responding even though a similar comment from anyone else would have no doubt ended with Jongup threatening them – or worse.

“I’m nineteen,” Junhong said. “Been here a long time though. Jonguppie brought me in years ago.” Jongup raised his eyes off Youngjae with that comment, staring stone-faced and silent at the wall. Youngjae glanced at Yongguk and Himchan, only to see them avoiding Junhong’s eyes too.

Youngjae nodded, chewing on his cheek. Junhong would have looked young for his age if he didn’t tower over everyone. He wondered what circumstances led to Jongup helping Junhong, and why the others were so uncomfortable talking about it.

“How old are you?” Junhong asked, tilting his head to the side. “You have a baby face.” He somehow managed to look innocent as he said it. Youngjae had long since stopped feeling defensive when people pointed out his puffy cheeks.

“I’m twenty-two,” he said. Junhong chuckled, nudging Jongup. He either didn’t notice or ignore Jongup’s discomfort. Jongup jumped, his eyes skating over to Youngjae then dropping to the table. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Told you so,” Junhong crowed, still ignoring Jongup’s reaction. “You owe me dinner.” He looked back at Youngjae. “He thought he was older than you.” Junhong grinned, giggling.

Oh. Youngjae hadn’t put much thought to Jongup’s age, but he’d assumed he was around Daehyun’s. Somehow the realization that he was older than Jongup changed how he looked at him, if only a little bit. He didn’t dare ask how old Jongup was, but he had to be older than Junhong, which made him either twenty or twenty-one. 

It made sense. For as intimidating as Jongup could be, now that Youngjae knew his age, he could see it. He certainly came off as younger than Himchan or Yongguk. 

Daehyun stepped into the room, swinging a case as he walked. He had a small, proud smile etched onto his face. He’d dressed even nicer than normal, wearing a white dress shirt and a black tie. Other than that, though Youngjae searched for a difference, Daehyun appeared the same.

Youngjae hadn’t known what he expected. Perhaps he thought Daehyun would walk in with bloodstains and a weapon in hand, as illogical as that sounded in retrospect. Either way, he didn’t expect Daehyun to look the same or to look as pleased as he did. 

He laid the case on the ground, slipping into the seat next to Youngjae. Without so much as a greeting, Yongguk grabbed a bag at his side, which Youngjae hadn’t noticed and dropped it on the table. It made a light thump, and then Yongguk reached for it, opening it and revealing stacks of bills within it. Youngjae frowned as he noticed it was all American money.

As Yongguk began to count it, Himchan leaned over the table, meeting Daehyun’s eyes. “No one saw you?”

“Course not,” Daehyun said. “Other than Park and his secretary, and I took care of them.” Yongguk paused his counting, acknowledging Daehyun for the first since he entered.

“You were only supposed to kill Park.” Yongguk frowned, his hand finding the table and tapping against it. For once, he didn’t have his lighter in hand. 

“I had a ten-minute conversation with his secretary. He knew my face too well.” Daehyun shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

It clearly did matter to Yongguk, but he didn’t push the subject. He looked down and kept counting money out. Youngjae took the time to observe Daehyun, who reached over the table for a bottle and poured himself a drink.

His hand shook, but he quieted it by wrapping it around his glass. Daehyun took a sip, then bit his lip before releasing it with the tiniest shake of his head. Maybe not as unaffected as he acted.

“Other than that, any problems?” Himchan asked, taking over from Yongguk. Daehyun shook his head.

“Park was angry,” he said, some amusement coloring his voice. “He didn’t realize we were meeting until this morning. Assumed I was a student.”

Junhong laughed with him, even though none of the others joined in. “What d’you tell him?” Daehyun stared at Junhong for a second too long before responding.

“I agreed with him. Told him I was studying journalism, and my professor had scheduled this interview with him months ago.” Daehyun grinned, a new light appearing in his eyes. “I asked him about you.” Youngjae flinched as Daehyun spun to face him.

“What?”

“He went through this entire speech about you being dangerous. I considered telling him you’re the way I got in, but I didn’t have the time.”

The knot in Youngjae’s stomach twisted, and he took deep breaths to calm down. He didn’t want to throw up again, not in front of everyone. Daehyun picked up on his discomfort, leaning over to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he breathed the words into Youngjae’s ear, and Youngjae let out a quiet whimper, panic rising in him as Daehyun’s breath hit the shell of his ear. “You’re okay. Calm down. I’m sorry – that was insensitive.” 

Daehyun’s hand rubbed circles into his shoulder, and Youngjae focused on the repetitive touch, letting the rhythm of it relax him. He opened his eyes when he managed to take a few breaths, feeling more stable.

Daehyun moved back from him but left his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. He squeezed it, and Youngjae leaned towards him, using the touch for comfort. Some rational part of him insisted he certainly shouldn’t look at Daehyun for help right now, not after what he did, but Youngjae couldn’t help but appreciate the touch as Daehyun grounded him.

He looked back at the table, only to see Yongguk had finished dividing the money into six even stacks. Youngjae reached for the one in front of him, glancing around the table to see Junhong flipping the bills through his fingers and whispering something to Jongup, whose pay still sat untouched on the table. A giant smile had stretched across Junhong's face. Youngjae looked away. He didn't like it.

Youngjae began to count the stack, knowing it was more cash than he’d ever seen in his life. They were all twenty-dollar American bills.

“It’s a grand,” Daehyun said, squeezing his shoulder again. “Himchan said that.”

“Oh.” Youngjae set it back down, unsure what to do with it. Daehyun slipped his into his pocket.

“Want to go out with me tonight? Looks like you could use a couple drinks.” Daehyun raised an eyebrow as he asked, resting his hand on Youngjae's arm and playing with the material of his sleeve. 

Youngjae hesitated. For as nice as Daehyun acted, he'd only just killed a man. He didn't know if he could forget that. Daehyun seemed to understand his hesitation.

"It'll be good for you," he said. "You'll feel better there." Youngjae couldn't deny that. He needed something to get his mind off everything that had happened. He wouldn't bury it, but it was too much for right now. He couldn't think about it all; it made him feel like he was drowning.

Daehyun's warm hand against his skin kept him from going completely under. Perhaps he was right, Youngjae realized. He nodded, meeting Daehyun's eyes.

A night out with Daehyun where they talked about anything but what had happened was exactly what he needed. Daehyun smiled at him, softer and more gentle than his normal grin. “Let’s go then.” 

They stood, and Daehyun kept his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. Daehyun stood behind him, watching as he packed his laptop and slipped the money into a pocket of his backpack, knowing it wouldn’t fit in his wallet. His fingers traced gentle circles on his skin, offering soft comfort. With the touch, Youngjae could remember how to breathe.

Youngjae led the way out of the room. Though Daehyun didn’t stop to say goodbye to the others, Youngjae hesitated, which caught Himchan’s eye. He nodded at Himchan, not really saying goodbye and pretended to not feel the eyes on them as they left. The door banged shut behind them, and Youngjae led the way to the room he'd now stay in, dropping his backpack there.

“You don’t have any better clothes, do you?” Daehyun asked, eyeing Youngjae’s t-shirt and jeans. 

“Do I need them?”

“There’s a club I like,” Daehyun said. “Hoped to take you there.” He shrugged, frowning at Youngjae’s clothes. His free hand tapped against his thigh, but he stopped as he noticed Youngjae glance at it.

“I can go,” Youngjae said. “I’ll just get some weird looks.”

“If you’re sure,” Daehyun said. Youngjae liked how the excitement grew on his face once he agreed to go to the club. “I should change though.” Daehyun frowned at his business clothes. “I’ll meet you back here – give me thirty minutes or so.”

Youngjae nodded, figuring he could clean up as much as possible. With a final pat on his shoulder, Daehyun left, slipping out the door. Youngjae stared at the closed door long after he'd disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here we go. Things are moving forward!! As always, love to hear what you think! Predictions and the like, here or on tumblr, make my day! :)


	10. Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You like when I touch you?” Daehyun asked. Youngjae nodded into his hand. “I like when you touch me too.”
> 
> Youngjae laid his head on Daehyun’s chest, appreciating the warmth and the soft fabric against his skin. Daehyun’s hand moved to run through his hair, petting him until Youngjae sighed, soft and content.

“Thanks for coming out with me.” Daehyun brushed sweaty hair from his forehead. When Youngjae walked in, Daehyun had risen from where he’d been talking to a girl at a table and came over to grab him. Youngjae fiddled with his t-shirt, wishing he could have dressed better to fit in. “You look fine,” Daehyun said, pushing a light hand against his shoulder.

Youngjae leaned away, looking back with a close-lipped smile. He drummed his fingers on the bar, laying his other arm on it and hunching towards it. Beside him, Daehyun took a sip, his smile dropping from his face and his expression darkening as he looked away from Youngjae.

It kept doing that. Youngjae couldn’t look at it, swallowing a larger sip as Daehyun’s serious eyes forced Park’s face to the front of his mind, where it laid heavy and painful across his memories. He drained his drink and ordered another. 

“You look good,” Youngjae said, trying to lighten his expression. It worked, and Daehyun flashed a large smile at him.

“Yeah? Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself. Hair looks nice.”

Youngjae ran a self-conscious hand through it at Daehyun’s compliment, making him chuckle and shake his head. He watched Youngjae as he drummed his fingers on the table, glancing around the club and looking anywhere but back at Daehyun.

“Don’t come to places like this often, do you?” Daehyun asked. Youngjae started as he spoke, his eyes flitting towards Daehyun’s and then to his drink.

“It’s not my thing,” Youngjae said. He shrugged. “Not bad though.”

“Good,” Daehyun said. “Glad it’s not a total waste of time.” The smile dropped off his face again, but he raised his glass into a false toast and drained it, raising a hand for another.

Youngjae shrugged again, trying to smile before giving up and watching Daehyun take another drink. 

“You’re upset,” Daehyun said. His eyes did that closing off and darkening thing again, and he clenched his hand tighter around his drink. “I get it. It can be hard.”

“Must be hard for you too,” Youngjae said, biting his lip. Daehyun’s eyebrows rose, and Youngjae’s face lit up red. He hid it by draining his drink. It burned in his throat, and tears rose in his eyes. He blinked them away, and by the time he looked back at Daehyun, he’d looked away, staring at his drink.

“I’ll be back,” Youngjae said, mumbling the words in such a way he doubted Daehyun understood, but he still nodded. Youngjae stood, moving through the humid, loud atmosphere towards the bathroom. He splashed a bit of water on his face inside, trying to gather his thoughts.

Part of him didn’t understand why he even agreed to go with Daehyun, especially when his sad eyes hurt so much whenever Youngjae saw them, but those same sad eyes had forced Youngjae to come. He couldn’t let Daehyun stay alone. Youngjae sighed, leaning over the sink.

He’d much rather be home than here. The appeal of the bed he’d yet to even lay down in had never been greater, but Youngjae didn’t want to leave Daehyun there alone. He glanced at the mirror, wiping the sweaty water from his forehead and trying to re-style his hair.

“You’re Yoo Youngjae.” The voice came from behind him, deep but quiet. Youngjae spun around with a gasp, accidentally flinging water from his fingers at the stranger. He raised an eyebrow and wiped off his cheek.

“What?”

Youngjae had to look up to see him, and when the man took a step forward, Youngjae’s eyes mapped out his route to the exit, just in case. “You’re Yoo Youngjae. The kid who got expelled.”

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.” Youngjae pushed down discomfort and tried to smile at the man, but the wrinkles in his forehead gave away his anxiety. He’d forgotten how his appearances in the news would affect how many people recognized him. The short man looked Youngjae up and down.

“Sure, right. Wrong person.” He grinned as Youngjae turned and walked towards the door. Right as he moved through the door, the man spoke again. “And with Daehyun too. Didn’t see that coming.” Youngjae looked back, his eyes widening, but the door swung shut and ended the conversation with a solid click. He stared at the closed door for a beat before shaking his head to clear the fuzz resting on his thoughts.

Youngjae walked back over to Daehyun, questioning whether to tell him about the man or not. When he sat down, Daehyun grinned at him, and a full glass sat in front of him once again. He decided to wait to say anything, knowing bringing it up would crumble Daehyun’s smile again.

“Hey,” Daehyun nudged his shoulder, tilting his head towards a group of people dancing. “That girl’s been watching you. You should go dance with her, have some fun.”

Youngjae paused, glancing at her and seeing her grin back at him. He nodded at her, smiling that uncomfortable, close-lipped smile again. “What about you?” Youngjae asked, standing and watching Daehyun take a drink.

“Eh, not in the mood for dancing tonight.” 

“I could stay over here with you?” Youngjae offered. Of course, Daehyun could do what he wanted, but Youngjae didn’t want him to regret taking him out to this bar.

“Up to you,” Daehyun said with a shrug. “You’ll probably have more fun with her.” Youngjae got the feeling Daehyun didn’t want to be left alone, and through the slight haze resting on his thoughts, it hit him once again how Daehyun killed two people today.

No wonder he couldn’t keep up his happy façade.

“I’ll stay.” Youngjae moved back into his seat, glancing towards the girl who’d been watching him. She pouted, but it didn’t take long for her to turn away and dance with someone else. 

Daehyun smiled at him, and Youngjae applauded his decision as a little tension fell from Daehyun’s shoulders. “Take a drink, that stuff’s better than what you were getting.” Youngjae took a sip and coughed, not expecting the stronger burn. Daehyun laughed. “You’re cute. And sweet. Thanks for staying.”

Daehyun had said almost the same thing before, but Youngjae still didn’t know how to respond to it. He shrugged. “You help me a lot. Thank you.”

“That’s good to hear.” Daehyun’s smile widened, and the sudden show of teeth made Youngjae’s heart jump. His chest warmed at the sight of Daehyun’s happiness. “I’m glad you’ve joined us, Jae. You’re the first person I’ve helped in a long time.”

Youngjae smiled back, trying to hide his uncertainty. Daehyun always came off strong and confident and seeing him as anything but that startled Youngjae. Still, he understood. “I don’t think I could get through this without you.”

He wasn’t lying. Daehyun had told him the truth more than anyone else. Without Daehyun, Youngjae would be where? Still dealing with Jongup's threats and not understanding anything about how the gang worked.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Daehyun promised. 

He drained his drink, and Youngjae wondered how much he planned on drinking tonight. Though he showed no signs of it affecting him yet, Daehyun was a small guy, and he’d already drunk a decent amount. 

“You handle everything well.” Daehyun tilted his head to the side like a puppy, and okay, perhaps he already was showing some of the effects. “How are you handling everything so well?”

“I – don’t know,” Youngjae said. The reminder made a cold shock echo through him, and he bit at his lip. Daehyun was a murderer. He was a murderer. Park Taeseon was dead, and another man was also dead, and Youngjae didn’t even know the other man’s name.

He drained his own drink, suddenly desperate for the warmth it sent through his body. Daehyun smiled at him, but it bordered on a grimace. He ordered another drink for Youngjae before he could stop him.

“I’ll pay for it,” Daehyun said, as though that was the problem with him buying more for Youngjae. Youngjae nodded, not wanting to admit the room was beginning to spin around them, and he wasn’t too sure about his motor abilities anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Daehyun said, frowning and staring at him with wide eyes. Youngjae prepared to let him know it was okay, that he could talk about what happened if he wanted to, but Daehyun cut him off before he could. “I shouldn’t talk about this stuff. Not here.”

“You can if you want.” Youngjae took a larger gulp of the new drink than he should have, considering his own tolerance for alcohol, but Daehyun’s tired, sad eyes hurt him, and he needed to be able to look at Daehyun without his chest echoing with pain. He longer tasted the burn from the alcohol. Some part of him thought that may be a bad sign.

“I – talked with them. The secretary told me about his kids. I don’t even know his name.” Daehyun bit his lip, and he clutched his hands together in his lap, looking away. “I killed him.”

Youngjae wished he had something to say. He wished he could console Daehyun, but everything Daehyun said was true. Even if he could argue killing Park didn’t qualify as a crime, which was questionable at best, killing his innocent secretary did no matter what. 

He finished his drink, unable to meet Daehyun’s eyes. 

“I didn’t even hesitate,” Daehyun said. He squeezed his hand harder, and Youngjae heard a crack come from his fingers. Daehyun winced and shook out his hand. Youngjae reached out for it, swiping through the air once before managing to grab it and pull it closer, cupping Daehyun’s hand in both of his.

“It’s okay,” he promised, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He needed Daehyun to believe him. Daehyun smiled at him, his eyes crinkling.

“You’re so nice, Jae. You’re too nice.” He frowned, pulling his arm to try and tug his hand out of Youngjae’s. Youngjae held it tighter. “Gonna get hurt.”

Youngjae shook his head, not able to summon a good response. Daehyun’s attempts to continue the serious conversation fell flat as he noticed Youngjae’s state.

“You’re a lightweight.” Daehyun laughed, and a smile grew across Youngjae’s face at the sound. The words registered a couple seconds after, and the smile became a pout.

“I’m not!” he insisted. “I’m just a little tipsy.”

“Sure,” Daehyun said. Youngjae grinned, nodding as Daehyun agreed with him. Daehyun moved his hand, shifting it in Youngjae’s grasp, and he looked down at it, realizing he’d forgotten he was still holding it. 

Youngjae let it go, and Daehyun pulled it back to his own lap. “Sorry,” Youngjae said, wide eyes staring at Daehyun. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“You’re okay,” Daehyun said. “I don’t mind.” Youngjae pursed his lips, not sure what Daehyun meant. Of course Daehyun minded. He had a girlfriend, and he loved her. Youngjae didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He shook his head.

Youngjae realized he still had a drink in front of him and picked it up, but Daehyun grabbed it out of his hands. He wanted to protest, but he let it happen because it was Daehyun, and he trusted Daehyun. Right? Youngjae wasn’t really sure who he trusted, but Daehyun was better than the others.

He took a sip of Youngjae’s drink, and Youngjae frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Why aren’t you drunk?”

“I am,” Daehyun said, chuckling. “Just not so obvious about it.”

“I don’t drink a lot,” Youngjae said. He bit his lip. “I'm not bad though.”

“You’re pretty bad,” Daehyun said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Youngjae shook his head, intent on convincing Daehyun he was fine. He jumped off the chair, stumbling as it scraped backward across the floor. Daehyun lunged forward and grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“What are you doing?” Daehyun hissed. The room spun around Youngjae, and he fell against Daehyun, whose hand wrapped tight around his wrist.

“I think I’m a little drunk,” Youngjae said, looking up at Daehyun with wide eyes. Daehyun frowned at him, and Youngjae realized they were only inches from each other, with Youngjae basically stretched against Daehyun’s chest. 

He jerked away, and Daehyun let him move, even though he kept his hand on Youngjae’s wrist.

“I can take you back,” Daehyun said, sighing as he looked at Youngjae, who leaned against the bar.

“No!” Youngjae didn’t want to ruin Daehyun’s night. Daehyun shushed him. “I’m okay.” Daehyun stood up, pulling Youngjae’s wrist again and making him stumble into Daehyun’s arms. Daehyun paid for their tabs even as Youngjae reached for his wallet, telling Youngjae he could pay him back some other time.

Youngjae clung to Daehyun as they walked, and he realized Daehyun was also stumbling a little. He pursed his lips, trying to figure out if it was because of how Youngjae leaned against him or because of Daehyun’s own state.

As Daehyun called a taxi, Youngjae sank to the ground, sitting on the curb. He stared up at Daehyun, frowning because he didn’t want to leave him yet, not when Daehyun’s hands still trembled, and his eyes had gone all serious again.

Daehyun took a seat next to him, laying his head on Youngjae’s shoulder and slipping an arm around his waist again.

“You smell good,” Youngjae told him, watching his lips twitch up with the compliment.

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Really?” Youngjae bent his head down to sniff at his shirt. Daehyun laughed, reaching over to grab his chin and raise his head back up. His palm warmed Youngjae’s face, and he buried his cheek in it, closing his eyes to the sound of Daehyun’s chuckles.

“You’re a touchy drunk.”

“You’re not touchy enough to be drunk.” Youngjae tilted his head. “Why aren’t you drunk?”

“I am. I just know how to control myself.” Daehyun rolled his eyes. “And I know how to hold my alcohol, which you don’t, obviously.”

“You touched me first,” Youngjae said. “It doesn’t count. You always touch me first.” Youngjae still left his eyes closed, so he didn’t see how Daehyun’s eyes widened at his comment. He raised his head off Youngjae’s shoulder.

“You don’t seem to mind.” 

Youngjae shook his head, leaving his cheek in Daehyun’s palm. Daehyun began to stroke his fingers up Youngjae’s cheek, making his eyes flutter. 

“You like when I touch you?” Daehyun asked. Youngjae nodded into his hand. His other hand tightened around Youngjae’s waist, shifting him closer. “I like when you touch me too.”

Youngjae laid his head on Daehyun’s chest, appreciating the warmth and the soft fabric against his skin. Daehyun’s hand moved to run through his hair, petting him until Youngjae sighed, soft and content.

They stayed in that position until the taxi arrived, and Daehyun still kept his arm tight around Youngjae’s waist as he pulled him to his feet. Daehyun got into the taxi with him, giving the driver an address which Youngjae didn’t recognize. 

“Where are we going?” Youngjae asked him. Daehyun ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Youngjae with red cheeks. Youngjae wasn’t sure if the color came from the alcohol or embarrassment.

“My apartment,” Daehyun said. “Figured we should sober up a bit.”

Youngjae nodded, agreeing. Daehyun lived in a tall building, and Youngjae nearly lost his balance when he tipped his head to try and see the top of it. With a snort, Daehyun grabbed him again, plugging a code into the door

He pressed the handicapped button, and Youngjae did his best to control his stumbles. Daehyun slipped a hand around his waist again.

“It’s nice here.” 

Daehyun chuckled, leading him to an elevator. The upward movement of the elevator made Youngjae’s head spin, and he groaned, leaning his head on Daehyun’s shoulder. 

Daehyun smelled amazing – some type of cologne with a scent Youngjae couldn’t place through the fuzz in his mind. Youngjae pressed his head in further, moving until his lips brushed Daehyun’s neck.

He froze once his lips met Daehyun’s skin, realizing he’d crossed a line, but Daehyun didn’t stop him, and Youngjae could taste salt on Daehyun’s neck. His tongue flicked out, and Youngjae felt Daehyun’s neck move as he swallowed.

The elevator dinged open, and Youngjae pulled away. He watched Daehyun, who didn’t really stumble. Instead, his steps were careful, like he had to put more thought into them than usual. Youngjae related. Walking was hard.

Daehyun led him inside, and Youngjae focused on moving, frowning as he used the wall to balance himself. Daehyun’s hand worked its way up his back, going under Youngjae’s t-shirt to rub against his skin.

Youngjae let out a sigh at the gentle touch, waiting until Daehyun stopped walking to move against him again. He pressed into him, staring into his eyes. They crinkled with amusement, and Youngjae blinked fast, trying to focus better. He dropped his eyes to Daehyun’s lips, wondering how Daehyun made them look so soft.

Youngjae raised a hand, poking Daehyun’s face a little too hard before sliding his fingers across his lips. He paused when Daehyun’s eyes fluttered shut, but he didn’t stop Youngjae, so he continued to touch his face, moving his hand until his fingers trailed down Daehyun’s neck.

Daehyun pulled away, motioning towards his couch. Youngjae pouted as he took a seat.

“I’ll get water, yeah?” 

Youngjae nodded, and he stood, moving through a doorway and into another room. Looking around, Youngjae blinked, trying to focus his eyes and take in Daehyun’s apartment. It looked nice, and Youngjae peered at several photos hung on the wall, and in one he recognized Daehyun and a girl. In another, there was an older couple - his parents, maybe? Youngjae didn't know.

Daehyun coughed from behind him, surprising Youngjae and making him turn. “Make sure you drink it.” He raised one of the two glasses before setting them on the table and taking a seat next to him.

Youngjae picked up the glass, obediently drinking a large sip of it. He leaned back, closing his eyes to try and calm the spinning. Daehyun’s hand rubbed his shoulder, moving around to his back. The tiny circles pressed into Youngjae’s back calmed him, and he sighed at the touch.

He opened his eyes, leaning towards Daehyun and resting on his shoulder. Daehyun shrugged it, making Youngjae lift it up again. “Not until you finish,” Daehyun said. “Don’t want you getting sick.”

Youngjae nodded, taking another sip.

“You too?” he told Daehyun, pointing at his water and raising his eyebrows. Daehyun chuckled, lifting the glass and drinking some. “Happy now?”

Youngjae frowned, shaking his head. “No.” Daehyun's fingers froze on his back.

“What?’

“Not happy,” Youngjae said. “You're not happy.” He raised his eyebrows, watching Daehyun shake his head, amused.

Daehyun laughed. “We’re talking about you.”

“But you aren’t,” Youngjae insisted. “You look sad.”

“It’s nothing." His eyes did the dark thing. Youngjae slid closer, peering at them. Daehyun moved away, making Youngjae frown.

"It’s that. What was that?”

Daehyun took a deep breath. “We talked about this already. It’s nothing.”

“But –”

“Youngjae. Drop it.” Daehyun’s voice sharpened, making Youngjae’s eyes widened. He looked down, nodding. Daehyun sighed, moving his hand up to wrap around Youngjae’s shoulders. “Sorry. Now’s just not the time.”

Youngjae nodded again, still looking away. He finished his water, and Daehyun matched him, draining his glass before pulling Youngjae closer. Youngjae curled into his side, laying his forehead on Daehyun’s shoulder. “You’re warm.”

“I’m warm?” Daehyun echoed, a smile tugging at his lips. Youngjae glanced up at him, blinking slowly and watching him. He liked Daehyun’s face, and the way his smile raised his cheeks and turned his eyes into half-moons. 

Youngjae lifted his head again, staring at Daehyun.

“You okay?” Daehyun asked, smiling wider. His eyes went from half-moons to crescents and lines appeared at the corners of them. Youngjae liked those too. 

He realized Daehyun asked him something and nodded, raising one hand to touch Daehyun’s face again, running his fingers over golden skin. Youngjae shifted to face him, wrapping an arm around Daehyun to shift him too. 

Now facing Daehyun, Youngjae grinned, running his fingers down Daehyun’s neck and watching him shiver. Daehyun’s hand left his back, moving up to wrap around Youngjae’s neck and pull him into a kiss. Youngjae’s eyes drifted shut, only to snap open as he registered the situation. He pulled himself away, jerking back towards the other side of the couch.

The move made the room spin again, and he gripped the armrest. Daehyun grabbed his hand. “Are you okay?” Daehyun asked. Youngjae ignored the question.

“We can’t,” he said, eyes wide. “Your girlfriend.” 

“She won’t mind,” Daehyun promised. He slid closer. His hand moved up Youngjae’s neck, making him both tilt his head back and frown, unsure. “Trust me, Youngjae. You want this, right?”

Youngjae paused, but Daehyun’s hand was warm on his neck, and he smelled good, and Daehyun’s teeth dug into his lip while he waited for Youngjae’s response. He nodded, and Daehyun smiled before pulling him into another kiss. 

This time, Youngjae prepared better for it, and he wrapped his arms around Daehyun’s neck, leaning into him and making Daehyun wrap his arms around Youngjae’s back to keep him in place. He chuckled against Youngjae’s lips.

“You’re eager,” Daehyun said, whispering the words so Youngjae could barely hear them over the sound of blood in his ears. 

“You’re pretty,” Youngjae said. Daehyun pulled away, resting his forehead against Youngjae’s as his hands moved up and down his back.

“I’m pretty?” he echoed, his lips twitching up into a smile. Youngjae nodded several times.

“Really pretty.” 

Daehyun laughed at his insistence. Youngjae kissed him again, cutting him off mid-laugh. He shifted forward, trying to move closer to Daehyun. It didn’t really work, and Daehyun grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet instead.

“Let’s go to my room,” Daehyun said, leading Youngjae there with a stable arm wrapped around his waist. His fingers rubbed down Youngjae’s thigh, moving inwards and making his breath catch. Daehyun grinned at the sound.

Daehyun led him into a bedroom, but before he could move to the bed, Youngjae pressed against him, pushing him towards the wall. Strong arms wrapped around Daehyun, and Youngjae kissed him. Something in the back of his head rang alarm bells, but he pushed them away. This was good. Kissing Daehyun’s warm lips felt good.

Daehyun started tugging at his shirt, but Youngjae didn’t catch the cue to help him until Daehyun separated them and pulled his arms into the air. 

Youngjae realized what he wanted right when Daehyun managed to get the shirt up to his shoulders, and Youngjae helped him pull it off before reaching out for his jacket. Daehyun pulled it off, fingers starting to work on the buttons of his shirt.

Youngjae tried to help, but his fingers couldn’t manage to get the buttons off, and he pouted, instead trailing his hands under the shirt until Daehyun finally took it off. 

Daehyun pushed him back towards the bed, and Youngjae stumbled backward against it, climbing up. He watched Daehyun with heavy eyes, shaking his head as his vision swam. Daehyun moved onto the bed with him, pulling him into a deeper kiss and prodding at his lips with his tongue until Youngjae opened them.

His hands were heavy on Daehyun’s skin, and Youngjae shook his head as sweat ran into his eyes. Daehyun leaned down to kiss down his neck and to his chest, causing Youngjae to grab at his hair.

He let out a gasp as Youngjae pulled at it, and Youngjae repeated the motion, enjoying the reaction he got.

Daehyun reached down, trailing his fingertips over the front of Youngjae’s jeans and making him tremble before tugging his jeans off. He took his own off, groaning as he pressed back into Youngjae with fewer layers in between them.

Youngjae pulled on Daehyun’s hair and jerked their hips together. “We’ve got all night,” Daehyun said, holding his hips down and whispering the promise into his ear. Perhaps because of the alcohol, or perhaps because Youngjae hadn’t felt this desperate in a long time, the words didn’t register with him. 

Daehyun chuckled as Youngjae fought against his hold on his hips. “Never mind then.” He slipped his hand into Youngjae’s boxers, making him tremble. “Some other time,” he said, but Youngjae didn’t hear him over the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat racing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) All feedback is appreciated


	11. Indefinite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Youngjae wanted to attack Jongup, to hurt him. Some vicious part of him wished he still held the dart he’d sharpened, desperate for a weapon.
> 
> Maybe Jongup was right for not trusting him with a gun yet. 
> 
> “Do it.” Jongup opened his arms, taunting Youngjae. “I can see you thinking about it. Hurt me.”

Something hurt. His body felt wrong, stiff and unmoving like he’d become a corpse over the night. In the darkness, his eyes stayed close, and a rhythmic, heavy pounding echoed all around him. Youngjae’s mouth parted, chapped lips cracking with the motion.

The sharp pain jolted him, and he groaned. The pulsing beat in his head hit deeper and deeper, reverberating through his mind and down his spine. Youngjae buried his head in the pillow, the soft scent of cologne – Eucalyptus – rising around him.

Somehow it relaxed him, familiar even with the confusion bubbling within him, and the soft sheets caressed his bare skin. Warmth rose around him, and he curled in deeper, trying to escape the pounding and frowning when he couldn’t. 

Something flicked on like a light in the corner of his mind, a reminder of something he’d forgotten. He flailed for a real light, reaching out towards the night table he expected to touch. Instead, his hand found nothing, sending his chest crashing into the bed and making the pounding echo even louder through him. Groaning again, he clamped a hand to his head, trying to ease the pressure.

Youngjae squinted through the darkness, finally bothering to open his eyes. Nausea swirled in the bottom of his stomach, and he swallowed hard to keep it down. He noticed thick curtains blocking sunlight from getting in the window, and his memories struck him just as he realized he wasn’t on a couch.

Youngjae jerked up, shivering as the blanket fell off him and oh god – he didn’t have a shirt on. With a trembling hand, he confirmed he was only wearing boxers. He strained his memory, clenching his hand tighter against his temple as his headache intensified with the mental effort. 

Daehyun’s voice echoed in his ear, soft whispers and laughter as his hands trailed over Youngjae’s chest. The ride in the taxi came next, Youngjae recalling how he’d sat on the curb, Daehyun’s hands heavy and hot on his skin.

Youngjae had felt a promise in his touches, and he’d followed through with it. The thought brought more swirling nausea, and he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling as he looked for a light. It took him a second to realize he could just open the drapes, and the action left him groaning and squinting. He stumbled, his limbs trembling as he searched for his clothes.

Daehyun had left them folded on a chair, and Youngjae swallowed down embarrassment as he redressed. He hadn’t meant to drink that much last night. Youngjae hadn’t meant to put Daehyun in that position.

Daehyun had spoken so highly of his girlfriend, and he had told Youngjae he loved her, and now Youngjae had somehow messed that up. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but the motion only worsened his headache. A whimper forced its way from his lips, and he tightened his jaw, angry at his own weakness.

More sickness rose in him again, and he closed his eyes, taking a few deep, gulping breaths to remain calm. A hard knock echoed on the door, followed by a more hesitant voice.

“Youngjae? Are you awake?” Daehyun’s voice sounded gentle, but it incited panic as though he’d screamed the words. Youngjae’s heart jumped, flying from his chest into his throat and nearly choking him.

He froze, unsure of how to answer. Daehyun cracked the door open, peeking into the room. “Oh good.” He didn’t seem to notice how tense Youngjae held his muscles or how his eyes widened. “I was starting to get worried.”

Youngjae opened his mouth, closing it when he couldn’t think of anything to say. Faint memories of the past night flashed through his mind – Daehyun’s hands trailing over his skin, his teeth harsh and tongue soft against Youngjae’s neck. 

Before he realized, he’d raised a hand to rub at his neck, fingers prodding the skin to search for bite marks he remembered receiving.

“Are you okay?” Daehyun asked, opening the door so he could step closer. Youngjae took a step away from him.

“I – your girlfriend,” he said. Daehyun had a bruise on his neck. Youngjae didn’t remember leaving one, but his lips tingled with the taste of Daehyun’s skin. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t meet Daehyun’s eyes.

“Whoa.” Daehyun held up a hand. He stepped closer again, and this time Youngjae stood his ground. “It’s not your fault, Youngjae. You didn’t force me into anything.”

“You – aren’t upset?”

“No,” Daehyun said. “It’s okay. She’ll understand.” Youngjae thought Daehyun was betting a lot more on that than he should, considering he didn’t even look worried about it.

“I don’t remember all of it,” Youngjae said, biting at his lip. “Did we –?”

“I’m not surprised,” Daehyun said. “You drank a lot last night. You fell asleep pretty quick.”

“Oh.” Youngjae wished he could say anything better than that. 

“I didn’t want it to go too far,” Daehyun said. He shrugged. “You were out of it.”

“Right.” Youngjae nodded, gratefulness rising in him even though he wasn’t sure Daehyun deserved it as memories of rough hands on his hips and a soft voice panting in his ear ran through him.

“I can drive you back, if you’d like?” Daehyun asked. “Or if you’d like breakfast and a shower?”

Youngjae’s stomach churned at the thought of food, but he could feel that they hadn’t cleaned up after what they'd done the night before. It became more pertinent than anything else for Youngjae to change that. “I’ll – shower. If you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” Daehyun said. “Bathroom’s through that door, if you don’t remember. I helped you there last night.” He waved a casual hand towards a door Youngjae hadn’t noticed before. Youngjae tried to squash fuzzy memories of Daehyun helping him into it, not needing even more embarrassment. 

He nodded, unable to meet Daehyun’s eyes.

“Hey,” Daehyun said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Youngjae flinched under his hand. “It doesn’t have to be weird.” Youngjae looked up to see Daehyun smiling. His heart jumped at the sight, and the recognition of his reaction made him clench his jaw, no longer wanting to trust what he felt about him.

He nodded, awkwardly turning and heading towards the bathroom.

“You can use the shampoo and everything in there,” Daehyun said. “Don’t be shy.”

Daehyun had to know damn well that Youngjae wished he’d been a lot more shy. “Okay.”

Youngjae walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He looked into the mirror, cringing as he saw the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

Undressing, he glanced in the mirror to see a trail of marks running up his chest and dotting his neck.

He winced, rubbing at them and hoping they’d fade soon. Sighing, he turned the water on, getting into the shower and letting the water calm him. Youngjae rolled his shoulders, grabbing Daehyun’s soap and trying to wash the grime and smell and exhaustion from his body.

He closed his eyes, trying to wash away his thoughts of last night as memories of Daehyun’s hand tight around him flashed behind his eyelids. Someone – not someone, of course it was Daehyun – knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Youngjae’s voice cracked on the word, and he only then realized how bad his mouth tasted. He washed his mouth with shower water, spitting it onto the drain.

“I’m leaving some clothes outside. Let me know if they don’t fit.” Daehyun still sounded much too calm about the situation. Youngjae tried to slow down and rationalize, wondering if he was the one overreacting, but his mind still thudded on, continuing painfully forward like a heavy rock that had been rolled down a hill.

“Thank you.” Youngjae spoke the words too quietly for Daehyun to possibly hear them over the water and through the door. He closed his eyes again, letting the water hit him.

A one night stand was one thing - hell, if that was all it was, Youngjae wouldn't have cared much at all. But sleeping with someone who already had a partner was entirely different. He winced at how stupid it seemed to care about it. Daehyun wouldn’t care about something like that, not when he could walk into a building and walk out leaving two bodies behind.

He closed his fists, clenching his teeth together as he recalled Daehyun’s hands running down his chest and his own arms wrapping around him so he could scratch down Daehyun’s back. Youngjae could hear echoes of his own voice, all soft moans and broken pieces of Daehyun’s name which brought more sickness curling in his stomach.

He needed to leave. 

Youngjae got out of the shower, drying himself. It took him a minute to build the courage to open the door and get Daehyun’s clothes, even though the appeal of his dirty ones had dropped now that he'd cleaned himself off. The clothes fit, a simple pair of basketball shorts and a soft white t-shirt.

He scooped more water into his mouth and spat it out, not willing to use Daehyun’s toothbrush but needing to improve the taste in his mouth. After a short debate with himself, he acquiesced to use Daehyun’s mouthwash, needing the mint to clear his mouth. 

Youngjae braced himself against the counter, staring into the mirror and gathering himself before walking out. The shower had eased his headache somewhat, but exhaustion still pulled at his body.

His body twinged as he moved, and he rubbed at a bruise he didn’t remember getting on his arm. He could smell something cooking, and his stomach struggled between growling or rumbling with unease at the smell.

He hesitated as he saw Daehyun leaning against the counter. Taking a step towards the door, he considered walking right by Daehyun and leaving, but the floor creaked under his foot, and Daehyun turned at the sound.

“Oh good,” Daehyun said. “I’m making eggs if you want any.” Youngjae shook his head, his mouth going dry as Daehyun raised his eyebrows. He looked at the ground, avoiding Daehyun’s eyes. “Are you not going to talk to me?”

“No – I just –” Youngjae didn’t know what to say, and his voice sounded unnatural and loud in Daehyun’s apartment. “Why didn’t you send me back to the office?” He winced at how accusing it sounded.

“The office?” Daehyun echoed. “Oh, the Ray Street building.” He shook his head, frowning. “You told me you didn’t drink often.” Daehyun smiled at him as though Youngjae wasn’t clenching and unclenching his fists in a rhythm Daehyun had to notice. “I wanted to keep you safe.”

“I – shouldn’t have drank that much,” Youngjae said, looking down as his face heated up. “That was a mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Daehyun promised him, turning back to the stove to fiddle with his eggs. “No harm, no foul.” Youngjae nodded as if he agreed. His nails dug into his palms.

“Did you plan it?” He forced himself to stare at Daehyun, even as his stomach churned with unease. “All of that – did you plan it?”

“Of course not,” Daehyun said. “Youngjae, we were both drunk.” He turned back around, frowning. “Why is this such a big deal?” He tilted his head as though honestly confused by Youngjae’s discomfort. 

Youngjae bit at his lip, unsure how to answer that. “I – never mind,” he said, regretting even trying to bring it up. “Sorry – I’m just a little off today.”

Daehyun made an understanding sound, moving to a cabinet and opening it to reveal a couple pill bottles. He grabbed one, tossing it to Youngjae, who reacted just in time to catch it. “You must have one hell of a hangover.” Daehyun moved over to his fridge and poured Youngjae a glass of water. “And I’m over here talking and making food. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s not too bad,” Youngjae said. “The shower helped.” He opened the pill bottle anyway, taking two ibuprofen and downing the water Daehyun offered him. 

“Good, good,” Daehyun said, smiling what Youngjae recognized as his classic smile with his scrunched eyes and teeth showing. “I can drive you back, if you’d like?”

“I can walk,” Youngjae said, shrugging. “We aren’t far, right?”

“Only a couple miles.” Daehyun shrugged, but he turned to face Youngjae again, looking away from his eggs and frowning. “But I’d prefer to drive you.”

“Why?” Youngjae frowned back, and Daehyun hesitated. He turned back to his eggs, fiddling with the spatula. Before he answered, Youngjae cringed, realizing Jongup had no doubt expected him for training that morning. 

“What’s wrong?” Daehyun asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Jongup’s going to be pissed,” Youngjae said. “I had training and it’s late – what time is it?” He realized he had no idea. Daehyun glanced at his watch. Youngjae realized Daehyun had dressed in his normal expensive clothes. He wondered if Daehyun even felt any effects from the alcohol.

“Almost eleven.” Daehyun frowned, sighing as he leaned back against the counter. “Give me a minute and I’ll drive you over there. Trust me – if you give Jongup until tomorrow before you show up, he’s going to be worse.” He turned back, pulling his eggs off the burner and into a container, which he moved into his fridge.

Youngjae fidgeted as he finished, not wanting to think about how Jongup would react but unable to escape the thought. He turned away, looking at the walls and spotting the photos on them. 

Youngjae recalled them from the night before, but he couldn’t remember who was in them. He stepped over, peering at the two photos. The third frame held a landscape painting, a print of something famous which Youngjae knew he’d seen before but couldn’t place.

In one photo, Daehyun and a small lithe girl stood with their arms wrapped around each other. The girl wore a cap and gown, no doubt having just graduated, and Daehyun looked considerably younger. They grinned at the camera, but somehow Youngjae also could see them turning to each other to share a private smile.

Youngjae swallowed disgust (at himself? At Daehyun?) as he assumed that must be Daehyun’s girlfriend. He looked at the other photo, a larger one. That one held an older couple, both smiling at the camera. 

“Oh,” Daehyun said. Youngjae turned to see he’d finished putting the eggs away. “Didn’t realize you saw those.” His smile grew awkward as he ran a hand through his hair, and Youngjae wondered why they mattered so much to him, especially with the realization that his girlfriend couldn’t mean too much to him.

“Are these your parents?” he asked, gesturing towards the older couple and hoping to keep the discussion off Daehyun’s girlfriend. 

Daehyun’s smile died on his face, becoming a slight grimace as shadows grew in his eyes. “No,” he said. “He’s a teacher I had. Learned a lot from him.” Youngjae nodded, trying not to look too surprised. “Here.” Daehyun stepped forward, pushing a mask into Youngjae’s hand.

“I’ve got one,” Youngjae said, waving his hand and refusing it. 

“Wear it,” Daehyun said, waiting for Youngjae to pull it out of his dirty pants' pocket. Youngjae obeyed, even though he never wore a mask when he trained with Jongup. Breathing heavy and clothing which constricted airflow didn’t go well together.

Daehyun remained serious as he headed towards the door, waiting for Youngjae to follow. “Youngjae,” he said, and for once he seemed to hesitate, as though thinking through his words carefully.

Youngjae waited for him to continue, but he finally shook his head, turning away.

Daehyun led the way down their stairs, taking Youngjae to his car. Youngjae got in, flashes of how he’d leaned into Daehyun, desperate for his touch, echoing through his mind. He figured sometime that morning Daehyun had returned to the club to get his car, and Youngjae couldn’t help but think more about if Daehyun felt any effects from the alcohol. 

Youngjae supposed he shouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t; after all, Daehyun seemed like someone who drank rather often. His hands shook in his lap, and like a child waiting for the principal, part of him wanted to ask Daehyun how he thought Jongup would react. 

As much as Youngjae wished he could say his weeks of training with Jongup improved their relationship, considering he counted days where Jongup didn’t pull a knife on him as successful said a lot. He’d followed Jongup’s rules to a T so far, not showing up too late or questioning him too much, and Youngjae had only just progressed past Jongup actively wanting him dead.

The drive only took Daehyun ten or so minutes. He stopped around the corner, mentioning how he doubted Jongup would like to see his car. Youngjae had to agree, getting out and thanking Daehyun before turning and taking a deep breath to calm the shaking in his hands.

He jogged the block or so to the warehouse, thankful for Daehyun’s clean clothes considering he could smell alcohol and sweat from the dirty ones in his arms. His headache had faded to a dull pulse, and Youngjae figured the medicine must be hard at work because something in him still felt wrong, like his limbs took an extra moment to listen to his commands.

Youngjae walked into the warehouse, looking around and trying to spot Jongup. The lights were off, and he wondered if Jongup had left, assuming Youngjae wouldn’t show up. It made sense; Youngjae expected he wouldn’t wait long, not wanting to waste his own time.

He sighed, moving over to the dartboards. With the strong daylight, he didn’t need the artificial lights to see, and the softer light didn’t hurt his head. He pulled the darts out of the board, moving back to the mark on the floor.

His arm trembled as he aimed, selecting the broken dart in particular. On some level, it surprised him how easily he could recognize it. Youngjae couldn’t even totally place how he did, but somehow, it felt different in his hand.

He threw it, and it stuck hard in the bullseye. Youngjae grinned, proud he’d managed to replicate his throw from a couple days ago. 

But of course, it didn’t matter anyway. The darts only wasted his time. He’d yet to even touch an actual weapon, and even the strength conditioning he’d done with Jongup hadn’t yet yielded particularly noticeable results. Youngjae could manage twelve pushups in a row, but well, he doubted that meant anything in the real world. 

Throwing the darts only wasted his time. Working with Jongup at all only wasted his time. Youngjae remembered Daehyun’s offer to take him shooting, and he wondered if he should still push to take him up on it. 

He didn’t want to think about Daehyun, not when his clothes felt awkward on his body, and Daehyun’s cologne still hung in the air around him, despite his shower. Youngjae could smell the body wash he’d used. 

Daehyun’s body wash, so of course it smelled like Daehyun.

Youngjae threw another dart, and it stuck near the bullseye. He hadn’t aimed much at all, only throwing it to try and stop his thoughts from continuing down that path. Thinking of Daehyun would only lead to madness. Youngjae threw the final dart, and it struck the board right outside the bullseye, near the broken dart. 

He walked over, telling himself with each step how pointless it was to continue learning how to aim darts. Jongup had played a game with him, and Youngjae only continued it, letting it waste more of his time.

He grabbed the darts anyway, turning to walk back only to see Jongup standing there, stoic and silent. Youngjae’s steps stuttered, and he cringed back, letting out a small cry at the jump scare. His reaction broke Jongup’s expressionless face, making him smile, a corner of his lip curling up.

“You’ve gotten better,” Jongup said, nodding towards the board as though Youngjae hadn’t panicked at the sight of him. “More accurate.” Youngjae only nodded, unsure why Jongup acted so calm and unsure how to keep him that way. 

Jongup stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Youngjae, who forced himself to stand his ground. His eyes trailed up and down Youngjae, no doubt judging his appearance. He wondered if Jongup recognized Daehyun’s clothes on him.

“Throw them again.” He raised an eyebrow when Youngjae hesitated before walking over to stand next to Jongup on the line. 

Biting at his lip and stealing sideways glances at Jongup, he threw one of the darts, recognizing it as the broken one from just the way it felt in his hand. It stuck hard a few centimeters from the bullseye. The failure made him grit his teeth.

Jongup watched the board, his expression unreadable. “So you figured it out.” His eyes moved back to Youngjae, narrowing when he nodded. Youngjae met his eyes, realizing Jongup had planned for him to recognize how to throw the broken dart the entire time.

“You did that on purpose,” Youngjae said, frowning as he realized Jongup had put more thought into the darts than he’d realized.

“Did you think I was wasting your time?” Jongup smirked. Youngjae hesitated, fiddling with the other darts in his hand. One slipped from his hand, and he bent down and picked it up. Jongup’s eyes didn’t leave him the entire time. “I told you – I don’t want you to get yourself killed.”

“I still don’t understand why,” Youngjae said, daring to speak for the first time. Jongup stared at him, pausing. When Youngjae looked up, he nodded at the board.

“Throw another.” Youngjae obeyed. It hit near the bullseye. “You’re not worth my time.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that Youngjae paused. “If you die now, it’s on me. I’m the one training you.”

“You’d feel guilty.” Youngjae’s words came out breathy and quiet. His heart thumped in his chest, beating out a rhythm not unlike the one he’d felt in his head only an hour ago. Jongup said nothing, not agreeing with him but also not denying it. 

“You’re not worth it,” he repeated. “Keep going.” He nodded to the board. Youngjae turned back to it. “When I threatened Himchan, you considered trying to stop me. Why?” 

“What?” Youngjae said, turning back to him. Jongup gestured towards the board, and Youngjae turned back, throwing the final dart. It hit too low on the board, and Youngjae sighed.

“Why did you care when I threatened Himchan?” Jongup regarded Youngjae, scoffing when he still furrowed his brow, confused. “You considered stopping me – or trying to.”

Youngjae paused, biting his lip and walking to grab the darts, pulling them out of the board and running the sharpened one across his fingertips, leaving a small scratch. The slight pain comforted him. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

“So?” Jongup waited to finish until Youngjae got back to the line and prepared to throw a dart. “It’s only one less criminal if I do, right?” Youngjae paused, not throwing the dart. He shook his head. “No? I think it is. One less goddamn stain in this place.” Youngjae stared at him, watching Jongup clench his fists. “Throw it.” He growled the words.

Youngjae turned back to the board, selecting the broken dart. Once again, it struck the bullseye, and the success forced a grin onto his face.

“Good.”

Youngjae threw another dart instead of answering. It also hit within the bullseye, and Youngjae’s smile grew further. Jongup nodded, approving. Youngjae raised the final dart, but Jongup held up a hand, making him freeze.

“Answer me first,” Jongup said. “Was it because it’s Himchan or because it was me threatening someone?”

Youngjae realized the answer right as Jongup gave him the options. “Because it was you.” A corner of Jongup’s mouth twitched. He didn’t look angry.

“If I did it again, would you try to stop me?” Jongup asked. He pulled his knife from his belt, cupping his other hand around it gently. Youngjae chewed on the inside of his cheek, watching Jongup play with the knife. His hands had small scars on them which Youngjae had never noticed before.

“No,” Youngjae said. He knew Jongup’s threats towards Himchan had no real bite behind them. “You wouldn’t hurt him.”

Jongup nodded. His fingers danced down the flat side of the blade. “How do you know that?”

“I – you were worried when he wasn’t there. You care about him.”

“He’s my family.” Jongup traced his fingers along the edge of the knife, and Youngjae watched it draw blood on his fingertips. He leaned forward to stop Jongup from hurting himself before he registered what he was doing and moved back again. “You’re still a stranger.” He pointed the knife at Youngjae, forcing him to take a fast step back. “See? You’re scared of me.”

“I don’t trust you not to hurt me.”

“That’s smart.” Jongup laughed, and the harsh sound bit through the air. He dropped his hand and the knife to his side. “Throw it.” Youngjae threw the final dart, and it hit too low. “If you die, it’ll be because I kill you.” He walked over to the board, grabbing the darts and handing them back to Youngjae.

“Why is killing me different than letting me die?” Youngjae took the darts from him, rolling them around in his hand.

“I only kill for a reason,” Jongup said. “If I kill you, I planned on it.”

“You nearly killed me a couple weeks ago for no reason.”

“I had reasons,” Jongup said. “This isn’t the place for a lone kid, and if Yongguk hadn’t recognized you then where would you be now? We aren’t the only gang here, and if you think the shit we do is as bad as it gets out here, you’re still naïve.”

Youngjae nodded. In a strange way, he understood what Jongup meant. He hadn’t thought of that but looking back, Yongguk had warned him about dangerous people. Youngjae had assumed he meant Jongup at the time, but in retrospect, he couldn’t have. Yongguk counted Jongup as one of the good guys.

He’d wait for another time to try and wrap his mind around how Yongguk convinced himself Jongup was good, but well, he also wasn’t particularly bad. Not like Youngjae had thought at least. With Daehyun’s actions still heavy on his mind, Youngjae couldn’t help but compare them.

Jongup acted much more transparent, telling Youngjae things which seemed true. He supposed Jongup could also be lying to him and just that skilled at it, but he also didn’t think so. 

On the other hand – Youngjae wasn’t sure if he’d ever trust what Daehyun said without question again, not after he’d insisted his girlfriend meant so much to him and then threw her away like she’d been nothing to him.

Youngjae threw the broken dart, smiling as it stuck in the board. He threw the other two, and both of them just missed the bullseye, landing on either side of it.

“You’ve gotten much better at that,” Jongup said. “We’ll start focusing more on actual defense.” Jongup let out an amused huff. “As much as I like giving you all those bruises on your neck, it’s long past time for you to learn how to escape a choke hold.”

It took Youngjae a moment to realize Jongup made a joke, but when he did, he offered a weak smile in return. Jongup stepped in closer, and Youngjae braced himself, unsure if Jongup was about to start that training already. 

His shoulder clipped one of the warehouse’s support beams as he backed away, making him stumble. He looked away, bracing a hand against the pole to regain his balance.

Jongup’s hand grabbed his shoulder, ripping him off his balance and making him stumble into Jongup. An arm wrapped around his neck as another locked around one of his wrists. Youngjae cried out, his free hand grabbing at Jongup’s arm.

Jongup held him tight, but he didn’t put pressure on Youngjae’s neck. Still, Youngjae gasped, panic making him claw at Jongup’s arm. He may not think Jongup lied to him like Daehyun, but he didn’t trust him.

Not now. Not ever. Youngjae couldn’t afford to trust any of them.

“You’d be dead if this was real.” Jongup’s hand opened against his neck, and Youngjae could barely breathe from how vulnerable he felt in the position. Hot breath puffed against Youngjae’s neck. “Do you think you can get out of this?” 

Youngjae paused, considering his options and trying to calm down.

With all the speed and strength he could pull together, he stomped on Jongup’s foot and slammed his elbow back into his ribs. Jongup gasped, releasing him, and by the time Youngjae pulled away and whirled around, Jongup had an arm wrapped around his ribs, rubbing where Youngjae hit him. He grimaced.

“Not bad. I wasn’t expecting the foot.” He motioned Youngjae back over, grabbing his shoulder to manhandle him into the same position. Jongup grabbed Youngjae’s arm with his free hand, moving his elbow against the area right below his ribs. “There. That’s where you want to hit.” 

Jongup’s hand on his neck moved to his shirt’s neckline, and he pulled it down.

“What are you doing?” Youngjae demanded, jerking his arm. Jongup stopped Youngjae from slamming his elbow into him.

“You should think about who you trust,” Jongup said. His fingers poked at a trail down Youngjae’s neck, and Youngjae suddenly recalled the marks Daehyun left on him. “I decide who I trust very carefully. If I don’t trust someone, there’s a very good reason.”

Youngjae wished he could pretend he didn’t know Jongup well enough to ignore that he meant Daehyun. He wished he could ignore himself enough to forget he agreed.

Trusting Daehyun would be so easy. He held himself with that suave confidence and hid behind an easy grin which he summoned in almost any situation. Youngjae couldn’t afford it though. He couldn’t trust anyone.

Jongup pulled away, watching Youngjae with calm eyes as he processed his words. When Youngjae looked up again at him, he acted as though he’d never spoke. He pulled his knife out, the blunt one he threw. “What would you do if I lunged at you?”

Youngjae hesitated, thinking about it, and Jongup shook his head. “You're taking too long," he said. "Get out of the way. That’s first.”

That made sense. Youngjae nodded. “What’s next?” 

A few hours later, Youngjae panted, leaning against the wall. Daehyun’s shirt stuck to him, and he’d become grateful for the basketball shorts, happy he didn’t have to worry about jeans. Perhaps now he’d gotten paid he would buy a few pair of shorts; they’d certainly made training easier.

Jongup watched him, sweaty but not nearly as out of breath. His brown hair stuck to his forehead, and he brushed it back, releasing it so it flopped back down towards his eyes.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. Youngjae raised an eyebrow.

“Go for it,” Youngjae said, when Jongup still didn’t answer. He looked away, staring at the ground as though he couldn’t meet Youngjae’s eyes. Youngjae frowned, moving off the wall to watch Jongup. “What is it?”

Jongup raised his eyes at Youngjae’s voice, almost jumping as though torn from his thoughts. Youngjae’s frown grew, his eyebrows coming together with concern.

“What did it teach you?” Jongup said, shifting from foot-to-foot as he regarded Youngjae, betraying anxiety despite his calm eyes. “The dart.”

“What?”

Jongup scoffed, regaining his confidence. “You’re slow. The broken dart. Why did I have you use it?”

“I – don’t know?” Youngjae took a step back as Jongup took one forward.

“You sharpened it,” he said. “Found the sharpener and everything. Why?” Youngjae shook his head, unsure what Jongup wanted him to say.

“You either got curious, or you wanted to prove you could do it. With how hard you’ve worked, I bet the second. What does that mean, Youngjae?”

But he still didn’t know, shaking his head again. 

“Jesus, I’m going to have to spell it out for you.” Jongup stepped forward, grabbing Youngjae’s shoulder and clenching his fingers tight enough to make him flinch away. “You need to figure out what to do with whatever you’ve got. Find a way. If you don’t –” he reached up to run his palm up Youngjae’s neck, grinning when his breathing quickened, “– then you won’t live long.”

Jongup stepped away and reached into his pocket, pulling out a simple flip phone. “Like this,” he said, holding it up. Jongup tossed the phone to Youngjae, watching him jerk to catch it. “You need a new phone,” he said. “They’re working to track yours now, I bet.”

“What? Who?” His stomach twisted, even though he didn’t understand. 

Jongup laughed. “Daehyun didn’t tell you? Of course not – why would he? It’s not in his best interest.” The mention of Daehyun only made Youngjae’s stomach jerk even worse. “Give me your phone.” 

Youngjae shook his head, taking a step back. “Tell me what?” His heart leaped into his throat, leaving him to stare, wide-eyed, at Jongup. 

“Youngjae,” Jongup reached out again, and Youngjae pulled his phone from his pocket, looking at both of them. He handed his phone to Jongup, whose serious, sad expression surprised Youngjae as much as it scared him. “They announced a warrant for your arrest this morning.”

“What?” Youngjae took a step towards Jongup, though he didn’t know why. Jongup took a step back, slipping Youngjae’s phone into his pocket. His forehead wrinkled, and he left one hand in his pocket with the phone.

“Park just died,” Jongup said. Youngjae nodded; he knew that. It was the rest he didn’t understand. “And – you’re the suspect. You fit. They know someone tampered with the cameras, and you have the motive so –”

“You – you knew that.” Youngjae felt as though the warehouse had begun crumbling down around them, so much the news had shattered him. Blood roared in his ears, and his entire body trembled, shaking like a leaf in the wind as it tumbled to the ground. “You planned this.”

Jongup stood still. Silent. He proved his own guilt with it, but he still watched Youngjae with an even gaze.

“You used me,” Youngjae said. “Used me to protect your own asses.”

Jongup shook his head. “We could’ve done it without being found – we just needed a way to keep you loyal.” He paused. “What did you do for us? You put a name into a calendar and took down a couple cameras. That’s it.”

Youngjae’s jaw clenched at Jongup’s words. Anger poured through him, burying devastation under it. If he’d even had a trace of a chance to get his old life back, he’d just lost it. Tears burned in his eyes, but the anger crashing through him tossed them back, filling him with fire instead. 

“All of you knew this would happen.”

Jongup said nothing, which confirmed it.

“How – dare you?” Youngjae took a step towards him. Jongup held his ground.

A smirk grew on Jongup’s face, and it looked wrong there, but Youngjae obviously didn’t know any of the gang, not if they’d used him like this. His jaw clenched harder, hurting his teeth, but he didn’t care.

“How dare we?” Jongup shook his head, and the amusement crinkling his eyes only made Youngjae angrier. “Youngjae. This isn’t boy scouts. You can’t expect only warm and fuzzies. It’s nothing personal; we just needed a way to make sure you didn’t leave us.”

Youngjae trembled, the severity of the situation pounding through him. The police were searching for him right this minute. No wonder Daehyun had told him to take a mask.

He could never leave. What he’d planned to be a hit or two and then moving on had just turned into something indefinite. Youngjae didn’t know how to avoid the police; he didn’t know how to start a life somewhere else.

If he tried to go anywhere, he’d end up on trial for a murder he didn’t commit but also couldn’t deny.

Youngjae stood in front of Jongup, and they stared at each other. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to attack Jongup, to hurt him. Some vicious part of him wished he still held the dart he’d sharpened, desperate for a weapon.

Maybe Jongup was right for not trusting him with a gun yet. 

“Do it.” Jongup opened his arms, taunting Youngjae. The smirk had dropped from his face, and his voice had taken on that serious tone again. Youngjae got the feeling Jongup was testing him, but he didn't know what he wanted. “I can see you thinking about it. Hurt me.”

Youngjae hesitated still, not reacting. 

“You can’t do it. Not even now.” Jongup shook his head. “You’re weak, Youngjae. You’re flighty. You don’t know how to stand up for yourself, and you’re not smart enough to keep up with us.” Jongup’s eyes narrowed. “At least I told you,” he said. “The others wouldn’t’ve. No skin off their back if you’re arrested.”

“Then why do you care?” Youngjae opened and closed his fists, taking a step closer to Jongup, who still had his hands out to the side. 

“You’re with us,” he said. “For better or worse now. I’ll kill you if you even think about betraying us, but I’d rather not have to.”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit about me.” Youngjae took another step closer, forcing Jongup to tilt his head up a few degrees to still meet his eyes.

“I've never led you wrong, Youngjae."

Youngjae snapped, hating the gravity of Jongup's voice, hating how he’d been used, hating how he’d never even considered the gang’s motives in having him help kill someone who’d just ruined his life.

He went from swinging his fist towards Jongup to on the ground, staring at Jongup’s feet, as quickly as he’d gone from college student to gang member.

Dust stung his eyes, and he scrambled to his feet.

“You wind up too much,” Jongup said. “It makes it easy to stop you.” Youngjae took deep breaths, tears rising in his eyes from the dirt in them. Anger flashing through him, he tried again throwing another punch. 

Jongup threw him off-balance again, tossing him to the ground. Youngjae choked on the dust as he tried to suck in a deep breath, coughing and shaking too hard to stand. He didn’t know whether the trembling came from his physical condition or his mental one.

Jongup stood in front of him, and Youngjae waited for another comment, especially with him on his knees at Jongup’s feet. When he said nothing even after Youngjae stopped coughing, he looked up, tears still running from his eyes.

Running a hand through his hair, Jongup took a step back so he could watch Youngjae without having to look down at such a harsh angle. “If it means anything, I’m sorry this happened to you.”

His words surprised Youngjae, and Jongup shrugged at the blank look he got for them.

“I know this life sucks,” he said. “But it’s all you’ve got now. From the moment you ended up out here, it was this or worse.” Jongup reached a hand out towards him, but Youngjae didn’t take it, standing on his own. 

“Take it or leave it,” Jongup said, dropping his hand to his side. His keen eyes met Youngjae’s. “But we’re all you have now.”

And as though he needed to emphasize his words further, he bent to the ground, laying Youngjae’s phone on it. He pulled out his knife, turning it around and driving the hilt into the screen.

The glass shattered, and Youngjae only realized then that he hadn’t gotten a single number from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that closes up the first arc of this fic :) As always comments and feedback are very appreciated!


	12. The Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatcha thinking about?” Junhong asked, making Youngjae jump. “You’re stuck in there pretty deep.”
> 
> “Just… stuff. The future?” he said. “Kind of.”
> 
> “It’s easier if you don’t think about that,” he said, his voice soft. “Just think about now – no future, no past. Makes things a lot easier.”

Jongup’s phone dinged, but Youngjae barely registered it, and Jongup didn’t even bother to look. They stared at each other, so close Youngjae could see the hairs standing up on his arms. 

Jongup stood on the balls of his feet, sweat running down the sides of his neck. A dark bruise peeked out from his sleeveless shirt, and Youngjae still couldn’t look at it without feeling a small burst of sadistic pride.

He’d done that. It had taken ten days of true training, where Jongup seemed to alternate between letting Youngjae get close to gaining the upper-hand and showing his true strength.

Like now. Jongup darted forward, and Youngjae cringed away from a sharp, controlled jab to his ribs.

“You’re not fast enough,” Jongup said. His phone dinged again, but Youngjae didn’t spare it a thought. Even though Jongup had lightened the hit, Youngjae had to grit his teeth to avoid clutching at his ribs until the pain faded.

Youngjae’s arms were littered with small bruises, and the overwhelming soreness he remembered from his first days had returned as he strained himself harder. A yellowish, almost healed bruise stretched across a quarter of his back and still twinged as he moved, but he’d grown used to pain and could ignore it with ease. 

Now he’d have a new bruise on his ribs, but if he planned well, he could give Jongup another too.

Jongup never seemed to notice the injury Youngjae left on him, other than rubbing it with a soft, absent motion once or twice when they took a break. Youngjae still felt bubbles of pleasure when Jongup revealed it hurt. He’d managed a true, solid hit, one which made Jongup’s other hand grab his shoulder as he reeled away.

Jongup had won the fight still, tossing Youngjae to the ground so quick he barely could react, but considering Youngjae had never even managed to hit Jongup until that day, he counted it as a success.

Youngjae stared at Jongup, watching him take a step back. His face looked almost bored, but his eyes had a way of going intense and crinkling with an absurd happiness when they fought. Youngjae didn’t know whether Jongup enjoyed kicking his ass or the fight in general, but he seemed to have fun when they trained.

Two weeks ago, he’d have reacted to the hit by throwing himself back at Jongup, letting his anger fight for him. He’d learned quickly that fighting with rage as the main driver led to immediate failure. Youngjae’s eyes darted around, trying to pick out any weakness he could use.

The warehouse loomed dark and dusty as always, and Youngjae felt the grit from the floor in the back of his throat. It seemed no matter what precautions he took, if Jongup threw him to the ground, Youngjae choked on the rough dirt. 

Jongup’s phone beeped again, and this time his eyes flicked over to it. Youngjae had never heard it go off before, and he didn’t know whether Jongup had merely forgotten to turn the volume off, or if something had happened.

As soon as Jongup’s eyes moved off him, he sprang forward, his motions sharp and strong. He didn’t hold back, and the force of his hit tore the breath from Jongup’s lungs. 

Jongup coughed, his hand wrapping around his ribs as he half-bent over. His reaction only lasted a second before he straightened his back, still gasping but ready to retaliate.  
Before he could, his phone chimed again.

“I need to check that,” he said, a low wheeze behind his words as he still struggled to regain his breath. Youngjae watched him turn with a self-satisfied smile. He allowed himself to finally grab his own ribs, happy that he’d balanced the number of bruises they both got in that fight.

“Yongguk wants us back.” Jongup had crouched by his phone, now scrolling through it. Running a hand through his hair so it stuck straight up, he sighed. “Himchan’s got another job.”

Youngjae nodded, his hand pressed against his chest. Each of his heavy, panting breaths moved his hand up and down, and sweat rolled down his forehead. His black shirt stuck to his back, and he used his free hand to pull it away.

He grabbed his water bottle, taking a long drink from it. 

“I’ll drive you,” Jongup said absently. The last time Himchan had needed Jongup, he’d wished Youngjae a nice walk back and left him panting on the floor of the warehouse. Youngjae nodded, though Jongup didn’t look up.

He still stared at his phone, scrolling through messages and reading. His frown deepened. “We need to go now.” Jongup still squinted at his phone, unmoving despite his words.

Youngjae used the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He waited for Jongup to look up, not knowing where he’d parked his car. Lines grew on Jongup’s face, deepening as his eyebrows drew closer and closer. Though Youngjae’s breath had already calmed, Jongup still breathed with heavy gasps, and Youngjae watched them quicken, faster and faster until he spun around.

Without a word, Jongup started walking, passing Youngjae without even looking at him. He pulled his phone to his ear, and his other hand played with the handle of his knife, twisting and rolling it in his hand. Youngjae followed him, nearly stumbling as he jogged to keep up on sore, exhausted legs.

“Are you okay?” Jongup demanded into the phone. “Where are you? Where was he?” The phone trembled in his hands, and he clenched his fingers tight around it. Youngjae rushed after him as his pace quickened further.

“Stay with Yongguk – don’t leave.” Whatever the other person said made him growl. “I don’t care. Stay with Yongguk until I get there.”

They reached his car, and Jongup yanked the door open with such force Youngjae almost expected him to break the handle. Youngjae scrambled around to the other side, knowing Jongup would leave him if he took too long to get in. Sure enough, by the time Youngjae managed to close the door, Jongup already had hit the gas. 

The car tires squeaked from the sudden start, and the old engine roared. Youngjae braced a hand against the dashboard to stay stable in his seat, using the other to tug the seatbelt into place.

Jongup’s hand tightened around the phone until Youngjae almost expected he’d break it. “Junhong – don’t you dare –” With another growl, he threw the phone into the backseat, and it struck the back window with a loud crack.

Youngjae leaned away from him, not daring to get too close when he could almost hear Jongup grinding his teeth. He watched Jongup’s hands clenched tighter around the steering wheel, heard his pissed, fast breaths. Sweat still ran from under his hairline, dripping down his neck and soaking into the fabric of his tank top. 

Averting his eyes, Youngjae turned to stare out the window, resolute as he watched boarded-up buildings and subsidized housing pass. To his annoyance, Jongup’s anger led to a soft, barely-noticeable trembling in Youngjae’s hands.

The last time he’d seen Jongup angry, he’d held a knife to Youngjae’s neck and nearly killed him. Even without it directed at him, Youngjae couldn’t calm his heartbeat to a resting level, and it stayed elevated until they got back to the office building.

He hated it. Youngjae had gotten better than that. The anger shouldn’t affect him anymore.

Jongup’s mouth was a thin line, his knuckles white from the pressure they exerted onto the steering wheel. He grabbed the handle, shoving the door hard and making it bounce on its hinges. Youngjae scrambled out of the car, following Jongup close enough to hear his cursing – not that he said it quietly. By the time they reached the meeting room, Jongup almost yelled the curses, speaking them as though directing them at a person, not to the silence in front of him. 

Youngjae caught the door to the meeting room right before it closed, peering in to see Jongup backing Junhong into the corner of the room. His voice had become a hissed whisper, and his hand pressed hard against Junhong’s chest, nearly making him stumble.

Junhong didn’t try to fight him; instead, he allowed Jongup to force him into the corner, silent as he listened with narrowed eyes and thin lips. Himchan and Yongguk both glanced at the door as Youngjae stepped in, eyes serious but nowhere near as intense as Jongup’s reaction had suggested.

“What happened?” Youngjae asked, stopping in front of them. Both leaned against the table, shoulders nearly brushing and Himchan’s forearm resting on what Youngjae recognized as more information sheets. Youngjae glanced around, but Daehyun wasn’t in the room.

“Nothing important,” Yongguk said. His eyes flickered over to Jongup and Junhong as he said it. Youngjae raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie.

“Jongup thinks it’s important.” He narrowed his eyes, not letting Yongguk brush his questions aside. Yongguk sighed, but it was Himchan who answered.

“Jongup overreacts sometimes.” Himchan kept his eyes focused on Youngjae even though Junhong’s voice grew louder behind him (“It’s nothing! Why are you this angry?”). “We aren’t in danger.”

Youngjae scanned his face, trying to read it. Two weeks ago, he’d thought he understood the basics of both Yongguk and Himchan, but they’d both stared him in the eyes, called him family, then ruined his life in a way he’d never erase. He didn’t trust them.

“Jongup mentioned Junhong saw someone? A guy?” Youngjae had to raise his voice over Jongup’s cracked yell: (“Nothing? You nearly fucking died last time!”).

Now Himchan sighed, sharing a glance with Yongguk. He stared at Youngjae for a long pause. From behind them, Junhong protested that Jongup didn’t own him and couldn’t control him. Jongup growled in response, wordless with rage. Youngjae stole a glance at him, watching him tremble with such violent motion he looked as though he’d been dropped into subzero temperatures with no jacket.

“Not Junhong. Daehyun saw him. He’s from another gang.” Himchan’s mouth was set into a thin line. Youngjae realized the bags under his eyes looked darker than he’d ever seen before. “They won’t bother us.”

Daehyun. Youngjae had spent the last two weeks avoiding him, and Daehyun hadn’t gone out of his way to prevent that. He didn’t know whether to feel glad or angry at Daehyun's acceptance of Youngjae's actions.

“But they have before?” Youngjae said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to stand on one foot. “Jongup said –”

“No.” Yongguk’s gaze focused on Junhong and Jongup behind him, turning the opposite way from Youngjae even as he addressed him. Youngjae watched Junhong say something, but their voices had dropped again. The tendons in Junhong’s neck strained as he moved his locked jaw, and his fists clenched at his sides.

Still angry.

Only a week ago, Youngjae would have dropped it, letting Yongguk’s sharp tone end the conversation. Today, he pressed.

“What’s wrong with Junhong?” Youngjae asked. “Why’s Jongup doing that?”

Daehyun’s previous words (“I’m sure you’ve realized what’s wrong with Junhong”) echoed in his ear, and Youngjae turned to scan him. Before, when he’d watched Junhong, he had seen dark eye-bags and a thin form. Youngjae still saw it, but he didn’t know whether he could judge Junhong’s health based on it anymore.

Perhaps his perspective had changed, considering Yongguk’s darker eyes and thinner body, standing right before him, or perhaps he’d learned to trust his initial judgments less.

Youngjae would never forgive the gang for lying to him, and he’d never forgive himself for being so blissfully unaware until the puzzle pieces fell into place.

“It’s nothing,” Yongguk said. “Drop it, Youngjae.”

“I thought you wanted me to be a part of everything.” Only two weeks ago, Yongguk had looked him in the eye and admitted they’d killed Park in such a way to lay the blame on Youngjae’s shoulders. Youngjae hated him. 

Of everyone, he thought maybe Yongguk was the worst because of his obsession with doing good. Youngjae wondered how Yongguk slept at night, knowing he’d destroyed Youngjae’s life and any remaining sliver of a chance for his future.

He probably slept well. Probably was still convinced he did it for the greater good. Still convinced he had a net positive impact on the world. Youngjae clenched his fists at his side.

Of all of them, he hated Yongguk the most.

“It’s over now,” Yongguk said, having the gall to attempt a calming smile. “Nothing happened. Nothing will happen.”

“Is Junhong sick?”

“What?” Yongguk never seemed to really do emotions like surprise, but the pitch of his voice still rose with the question. “No, he’s fine.” Youngjae’s eyes scanned Yongguk’s face, looking for a lie, looking for anything that could tell him the fucking truth.

He’d never realized how sick Yongguk looked before. Perhaps his comparison had opened the thought, something he’d buried because of his misplaced original fear of Yongguk. A thin layer of sweat rested on his forehead and upper lip. Threadbare clothes hung off him, and at such a small distance away, gaunt was almost too kind of a word for him.

Youngjae wanted to call him emaciated. “Are you sick?” He looked down at Yongguk’s arms, eyes trailing over the small scars on them. Youngjae had begun a running debate of how Yongguk got them, especially considering Youngjae knew for sure there were more than there had been a month ago. 

“Why do you think someone’s sick?” Yongguk crossed his arms, folding the scars as though he knew Youngjae’s thoughts and wished to hide them.

“You look like you’re starving.” Perhaps not the subtlest response, but Youngjae wanted answers. He realized too late that he probably should’ve called Yongguk ‘hyung.’ Not that it mattered anymore; they may have called him family, but they’d still manipulated him without a second thought.

Yongguk shrugged. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t the best at continuing conversations but that came as no surprise. Youngjae turned to Himchan, who held his face blank and eyes careful as they watched Youngjae.

He thought that was a good word for Himchan. Careful. 

Youngjae hated him too. 

He forced himself to take a deep breath, pressing his hands against his legs to keep them from shaking with anger. Neither Himchan or Yongguk reacted to his state, but Youngjae knew them well enough to know that likely meant they’d decided to not address it, not that they hadn’t noticed.

Motion from the corner distracted Youngjae’s attention, making him turn to face Jongup and Junhong. 

Jongup’s hand clenched around Junhong’s wrist in a bruising grip, and he nearly dragged Junhong over to his seat. Junhong wrenched his hand away, ignoring Jongup’s furious look. Mouth set in a grim line, Junhong stepped around the table, taking Daehyun’s normal seat and pretending as though Jongup wasn’t staring at him from across the table.

He looked up, meeting Youngjae’s eyes, then Yongguk and Himchan’s. “Well? We have a meeting.” His voice sounded sharper and more demanding than Youngjae had ever heard it. As if awoken from sleep, Yongguk and Himchan finally moved, taking their classic seats. Youngjae hesitated before taking his normal one again, avoiding the empty one next to Jongup.

Junhong grabbed the bottle in the middle of the table, pouring some in his glass. Youngjae shifted, uncomfortable eyes glancing at Junhong until he met an apologetic gaze. Junhong smiled like it wasn’t a weird situation and tipped the bottle to fill Youngjae’s glass. The serious look in his eyes suggested it were a peace offering.

“What are we waiting for?” Junhong asked, his voice taking on a sharp edge again as everyone’s eyes seemed to travel between him and Jongup. Youngjae felt like a child used to assigned seats at school, shocked by even the slightest change.

Or maybe it was Jongup’s clenched fists and unrelenting stare, which seemed to burn Junhong from its intensity. Youngjae had never seen Jongup angry like this, and it made the Jongup in Youngjae's memories seem only slightly annoyed.

“Daehyun’s not here.” Himchan’s voice sounded soft, gentle, placating. Junhong’s shoulders collapsed with the words, slumping forward as though the easy tone had attacked him. “We’ve got a new job.”

Junhong nodded, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back and closing his eyes, taking deep, audible breaths. Youngjae recalled his own glass as he watched, and he took a small sip, letting the fire rush down his throat and calm his anxieties. 

“You always look scared.” Junhong had opened one eye and now watched Youngjae from his relaxed position. He chuckled as Youngjae jumped. “Like that.”

“I guess I’m not used to this yet.” The words felt bitter in his mouth, and he nearly choked on the ‘yet’ because some part of him still hadn’t accepted what his life had become. Youngjae clenched his hand around the glass, holding it tighter. He needed to get used to it.

Youngjae had almost a thousand dollars to his name. Perhaps he didn’t need to remain on the streets, working with a gang. He could get away. At this point, all he needed to do was run – out of the country, if he could. Youngjae knew little about the logistics of running, but he imagined he could figure it out quick with his skillset.

But Jongup’s dark eyes promised retribution if he betrayed them, and Youngjae had learned the hard way that the men he worked with thought little of destroying lives.

If he tried to leave the gang, Jongup would kill him. Of that Youngjae had no doubt. In fact, he expected Daehyun thought the exact same thing, and that’s why Daehyun, despite his obvious wealth, also stayed.

Daehyun. Youngjae hadn’t seen him ever since he’d confronted Yongguk and Himchan for lying to him. Even then, he’d leaned against the wall, staring out, wordless as Youngjae’s world continued to crumble into pieces.

Silent. Stoic in a way Youngjae wouldn’t have thought possible. His charismatic eyes dark as they ran over Youngjae, watching him as he panicked, realizing his old life had disappeared.

Not that he knew a single thing about Daehyun. Of all them, it had been Daehyun who pushed temporary, temporary, temporary, insisting they’d get away, insisting it wasn’t forever. 

Daehyun had called him naïve, said it was cute. Youngjae assumed the betrayal he still felt only showed that naivety Daehyun liked so much. 

In the future, he couldn’t rely on Daehyun unless he had something to hold over his head. If Youngjae knew anything, it was that Daehyun would think nothing of holding something over him.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Junhong asked, making Youngjae jump. “You’re stuck in there pretty deep.” Youngjae bit his lip, trying to think of an answer.

“Just… stuff. The future?” he said. “Kind of.” Junhong raised an eyebrow, opening the other eye and shaking his head at Youngjae.

“It’s easier if you don’t think about that,” he said, his voice soft. “Just think about now – no future, no past. Makes things a lot easier.” He offered Youngjae a bright smile, showing off his single, boyish dimple. 

If Youngjae hadn’t seen what just happened, he would’ve thought nothing was wrong with Junhong. But if he really looked, he could see a subtle tightness in his shoulders, in his face. Junhong looked a little too tired for his smile to work.

Jongup’s fist hit the table, causing the liquid to slosh around in Youngjae’s cup. Junhong looked across the table at Jongup for the first time since sitting down. “Something wrong?” His voice sounded polite, yet strained, and the smile died until no trace of it ever existing remained.

“Yes,” Jongup ground out. “You know what happened last time. You were there, and – and you don’t care? You don’t fucking care what this might mean again.” His voice grew louder and louder with each word, and for the first time, Jongup’s voice faltered, the anger draining from his voice. “Why are you lying to me?” 

The blood ran from Junhong’s face, turning his skin pale, and he took a nearly silent, shuddering breath. With only a glance at Jongup, Youngjae understood why. 

Jongup’s eyes held no tears, but they overflowed with devastation. He stared at Junhong, brow furrowed, eyes widened, the slightest tremble in his jaw. The pain rolled within them, dynamic and growing, like a water level which rose and rose and rose until it lapped at the doorsteps of homes and stopped cars in their paths.

Jongup looked away, freeing Junhong from the trapped isolation of his desolation. He ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Junhong’s expression softened at the edges, but he made no move to return to his original seat or even to comfort Jongup.

“I’m just being realistic, Jongup,” Junhong said. Argued. Even with Jongup’s state, he argued. “It needs to end.” Maybe he didn’t argue; maybe he pleaded. His own eyes had filled with desperation to make Jongup understand.

“But he’s back.” Jongup looked up again, and now they’d become wild, holding the same wide-eyed anxiety Youngjae saw whenever he insisted he’d rather kill someone than watch them die. “He’s back.” But Junhong was already shaking his head.

“Even so. It’s over. It has to be over,” Junhong said. Jongup leaned forward, no doubt readying a counter-argument, but Junhong shook his head again, more firmly. “That’s all there is to it.”

Youngjae glanced back to Yongguk and Himchan, expected they had understood the conversation better than he had. To his surprise, neither of them were watching. Both looked away; Himchan towards the door, and Yongguk to the floor. 

Yongguk mouthed words under his breath to himself, much too quiet for anyone else to hear. Youngjae heard the sharp clicking of his lighter opening and closing.

After around ten minutes of silence, broken only by Yongguk’s low mumbles and the flicking of his lighter, Daehyun pulled the door open. He surveyed the room, eyes falling on Junhong and narrowing. No doubt he wondered what happened, but Daehyun didn’t ask.

Instead, he took the seat next to Jongup without a word, without even glancing at Jongup. He hung his jacket – a black tailored coat with gold buttons – on the back of his chair before sitting. Typical. Youngjae’s eyes trailed over his black button-down shirt before dropping to the glass in his hands.

He felt eyes on him, and he bet they were Daehyun’s. Clenching his jaw, Youngjae raised his head, meeting Daehyun’s eyes almost immediately. He glared, his eyes narrowed and body stiff with a cocktail of betrayal and anger and the pain of misplaced trust. Daehyun had the gall to look surprised, raising a calm eyebrow and further antagonizing Youngjae.

Daehyun had looked him in the eye and lied to him. Youngjae didn’t know if he hated Daehyun more for doing it or himself for believing it.

“We’ve got a new target,” Himchan said, ignoring the subdued tension of the table. He pulled a small stack of papers out from under the table. Daehyun reached across the table for the bottle and poured himself a drink as Himchan passed the packet to Yongguk. “Dealers.”

A wave of nausea rose in Youngjae’s stomach as he saw the picture of the man on the first page. As with Park, applying a face to the name on the page only made it harder to comprehending assisting in their deaths.

“Think that’s why Ji Sihwan’s been around?” Daehyun asked, tilting his head and addressing Himchan with the question. Before Himchan could answer, Jongup cut in.

“Where did you see him? Did he see you?” Daehyun raised a hand as Jongup leaned closer to him, moving away and waiting to answer until Jongup leaned back and his mouth formed an angry frown.

“On eighth, and no. I was driving.” Despite his factual answer, a smirk played on his lips. Youngjae wondered if he was lying to antagonize Jongup.

“That’s not even close to here.” Junhong scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Sihwan’s allowed to exist.”

“I’m killing him the next time I see him.” Jongup’s voice dropped, and he stared directly at Junhong as he answered. Junhong leaned back in his seat, mouth set in a grim line. Youngjae saw him clench his fists in his lap.

“No, you aren’t.” Himchan’s voice came out sharp as he jumped into the conversation. “The last time you threatened him we almost ended up with a turf war on our hands. We don’t need that again.”

“Why are you all so willing to ignore what he did?” Jongup eyes were wide as he glanced around the table, only for Himchan and Yongguk to avoid his eyes. Even Daehyun refused to meet them, and Youngjae knew his own eyes must be just as wide as Jongup’s because he had no idea what was happening.

“Because it’s over, Jongup.” Junhong leaned over the table. “It’s finished.”

Jongup shook his head, banging his hand against the table again as he stood. No one stopped him as he stormed out of the room, and the door slammed shut with a sharp click.

Without a word, Yongguk slid the pile of papers to Daehyun.

“What did he do?” Youngjae asked. “Why is Jongup like that?” He looked at Yongguk and Himchan, but they both avoided his eyes in the same way they’d avoided Jongup. No one answered for a long minute, until Daehyun raised his eyes to meet Youngjae’s. They looked guarded, his face blank and unknowable in a way Youngjae had never seen before.

“Nothing. Sihwan did nothing.” His eyes drifted over to Junhong, breaking his mask in the smallest way before they moved back to Youngjae. “Jongup’s never been very logical about things, and Sihwan rubbed him the wrong way. That’s all.”

Junhong’s hands shook as he gripped the table. Youngjae listened to him take a deep breath.

“You’re lying.” Youngjae trusted that Jongup wouldn’t make such a huge deal out of nothing. He wasn’t sure if they were covering it up from him or just covering it up in general, but he knew something had happened. Daehyun’s brow furrowed as Youngjae spoke, perhaps because of his cold tone, perhaps because of his own lie.

“Youngjae –” Daehyun said, leaning forward across the table. His serious eyes rested heavy on Youngjae’s face, too familiar to what had happened a couple weeks ago.

“No,” he said, his voice sharp. “Not you.” Something in his chest stung as Daehyun’s forehead wrinkled, looking concerned and hurt and everything Daehyun didn’t deserve to feel. Youngjae clenched his jaw to control his anger. He turned to Yongguk and Himchan. Yongguk’s eyes were on his lighter, but Himchan’s met him with an even gaze. “No more lying,” he said. “I need to know.”

Himchan continued to regard him, stoic and calm. He looked away, pondering what to say, and Youngjae forced himself to take deep breaths despite how they strained new and healing bruises alike.

“Junhong’s right,” Himchan said. His eyes flickered to Junhong then back to Youngjae. “It’s in the past.”

“But –”

“Jesus Christ, Youngjae,” Yongguk raised both his eyes and his voice, growling the words. “Drop it.” 

Youngjae shook with anger. “You did this to me,” he said, eyes trailing over Himchan and Yongguk, then turning to include Daehyun into it. “I’m stuck here because – because of you. I need to know –”

“Why?” Daehyun said. His eyes narrowed, and he held up a hand when Youngjae began to respond, shaking his head and cutting him off. “Youngjae, I know you’re angry, and it’s okay. I would be too.” Patronizing. Youngjae clenched his jaw, and Junhong moved a huge hand to his back, rubbing comforting circles with a giant hand. His touch made Youngjae flinch, but Junhong didn’t remove it.

“But asking about this?” Daehyun said, gesturing outwards to the whole table. “It’s nothing important, and you’re only bringing things up which ended a long time ago. Let it drop, Youngjae.”

He pushed the papers across the table, and Junhong hesitated, eyes flicking towards Youngjae before he grabbed them, skimming them much faster than Daehyun had and passing them to Youngjae. Junhong’s eyes held so much relief that the conversation had ended that Youngjae couldn’t bring it up again.

Anger still bubbled within him, but maybe Daehyun was right. He would never know everything about the gang, and maybe he needed to pick his battles. Youngjae sighed, looking down at the sheets and flipping through them.

He tried reading them, but as for Park Taeseon, it began with general facts about them. The more human they became for Youngjae, the more his stomach twisted in his abdomen, so he passed the papers back to Himchan after only a minute. 

“Youngjae, can you get into their security system?” Himchan grabbed the papers from him as he asked, eyes never leaving Youngjae’s face. “It’ll make it easier if we know how to approach this.”

“I can try.” Youngjae shrugged. He watched the face on the top page as Himchan organized them into a neater pile. “Can I ask something?” Something in Himchan’s eyes darkened, but he nodded after only a short hesitation. Youngjae swallowed hard before speaking again. “Why them? What did they do?”

“They’re in our territory,” Himchan said. “We don’t want them here.” Youngjae’s eyebrows drew together as he considered that. 

“You’re against drugs?” He hadn’t expected that. Junhong laughed, loud and obnoxious and so over-the-top it had to be fake. He slapped the table with his large hand. Youngjae cringed, turning to face him and watching him struggle to regain his composure enough to speak. 

Across the table, Daehyun pressed his lips together, subduing a laugh and glancing downward. A chuckle slipped from his lips, gentle as a whisper but as disconcerting as a misplaced smirk.

Junhong wiped his mouth to get the spit that had dribbled onto his chin. “No, we control the drugs in this part of the city.” He chuckled again, but his eyes still reflected an exhaustion he couldn’t seem to force away.

“The dealers work for me,” Daehyun said, finally letting a smile float onto his lips.

“You?” Youngjae echoed. He turned to meet Daehyun’s dark, amused eyes and small grin but found he couldn’t stand it. Instead, he turned back to Yongguk. “I thought you wanted to help!” 

Junhong scoffed at his words, and Youngjae didn’t even want to imagine Daehyun’s reaction. They all knew Yongguk’s constant striving to have a net good impact went nowhere and helped no one. Still, Youngjae never imagined he hurt people like this.

“We don’t create addicts because no one starts off on what we sell. And we sell a good quality at a reasonable price.” It sounded like Yongguk had rehearsed the answer. Youngjae wondered if he did and if that was why he could sleep at night. “It’s better than what would be here if we didn’t control it.”

“What would that be?” Youngjae wanted to believe him, but he knew better than that. His incredulous tone came out strong in the nearly silent room. Himchan laid a hand on Yongguk’s arm, and Youngjae realized he was trembling.

“Sihwan,” Daehyun said, finally. Youngjae turned to face him. “And the rest of their gang. They’re involved much more in – creating new clients than we are. We sell what addicts who’ve lost everything need. They sell what creates new addicts.” 

Daehyun’s eyes slid away from Youngjae and looked at Junhong. They held each other’s gaze for a moment too long, but it wasn’t a hostile look. Daehyun’s face, as usual, revealed nothing, and though Junhong’s eyes were cold and his hand clenched the edge of the table, his face was relaxed.

When Daehyun broke their eye contact, no one spoke. Junhong looked down, clenched the table even harder with his hands, then drained the rest of his drink and poured himself another glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big things are happening!! As always comments, constructive criticism, and predictions are very appreciated!


	13. Slamming Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Never point a loaded gun at someone you don’t want to kill.” Jongup raised the gun and pointed it at Youngjae, who froze. “I know you want answers but - not now. 
> 
> “You’d do good to remember I’m not joking about what’ll happen if you fuck things up for us.”

Youngjae rolled to the side on the small bed and flopped an arm over his head. He groaned, pressing his arm against his ear in an attempt to drown out whatever had woken him. The sounds only grew louder, incoherent bangs strewn with sharp yells morphing into words the closer they got to him. 

It took him recognizing Jongup’s voice in the mix to finally bolt into a sitting position. His surprised gasp drowned out the words for another moment, long enough for someone else to yell back. Junhong – Youngjae was certain of it.

“– a child, Jongup! Don’t just follow me around and think I’ll listen to you.” A door slammed open, and the words became both louder and clearer. Youngjae’s bleary eyes blinked at the sliver of dull light coming in through the cracked door, as though the hint of what was outside would help him comprehend the conversation. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. I’ve killed people for less than what you’ve done.” Jongup’s voice came out harsh as he spat the threat. Youngjae could imagine his clenched fists and the intense stare.

Or maybe it would be more like last time when Jongup sounded angry but only looked sad.

“You’d never kill me, and you know it.” Junhong’s voice softened. “Jongup –”

“You know what happened last time.” Another loud bang. “How can you be so fucking calm about this?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Junhong said, exasperated and so angry his words came out clipped and even louder. “You don’t understa –”

“I don’t understand? You’re the one who’s fucking naïve.”

A figure cast the thin light Youngjae could see into shadow. “Naïve? You’re kidding me. Do you think I haven’t fucking thought about it? I just don’t freak out like you do.”

“Freak out? So you think it’s no problem for Sihwan to be back?” Jongup let out a loud, barking laugh. “Wow, maybe they were right. Maybe we can’t trust you.” Jongup barely finished speaking when there was a loud smack, then a thud that slammed Youngjae’s door, killing even the small bit of light he’d had before. There was another thud, and someone – Jongup, it had to be Jongup – groaned. 

Heavy, fast breaths echoed from beyond the door, and the silence stretched longer and longer. Jongup made no attempt to stand.

“I saved your life,” Jongup said, his voice so quiet Youngjae had to strain to catch it. “You were going to die.”

“Yeah, well a gold star for you.” Junhong’s voice held no pity for him. “What? What do you want me to say? It’s been years, Jongup. Over two years since I came back.” His voice became gentler, and Youngjae could imagine his large, innocent eyes staring down at Jongup. “I know I fucked up –”

“Did a lot more than that,” Jongup said, muttering the words so softly Youngjae had to strain to hear them.

“I thought you were over it,” Junhong said. “It’s been years.” His voice pleaded with Jongup to understand.

Jongup sighed, a soft, defeated sound. “I thought I was too but – but now he’s back, and you don’t – you don’t even seem worried! Why aren’t you worried? _Why aren’t you angry?_ ” His voice rose as he finished, then it cracked and seemed to die in his throat. “You know what he did.”

Junhong matched Jongup’s previous sigh. “Sihwan’s a dick, but – it’s different this time. I’m different, not fifteen anymore, and it won’t happen like last time.”

For a long pause, Jongup didn’t respond. He pushed off the wall, standing up with a groan and leaning back against the door. “I want to believe you.”

“You need to,” Junhong said, his voice low but hard. “I won’t be anywhere near Sihwan – and there’s no fucking way I’d go with him again.” 

“You’re right,” Jongup said. “I’m… overreacting.” 

Youngjae’s eyebrows rose as Jongup admitted it. He’d watched Jongup refuse to do the same thing earlier, but now it seemed something had changed.

Junhong sighed. “I still regret it,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t. Things were a lot back then, but a lot’s changed too.” 

For a long pause, neither spoke. Youngjae listened to the sound of their breathing.

“How’s your jaw?” Junhong asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re bleeding.” Junhong’s voice lowered.

Something thumped, and someone oofed. Youngjae’s breath caught, wondering if he was about to hear one of them get hit again. “I’ve had worse,” Jongup said, his voice gruff. “Don’t – don’t touch me,” he said, his voice taking on a pleading note. “Just – leave. Go do whatever you wanted to tonight.” 

“Are you –? Right.” He sighed again. “Don’t follow me tonight,” he ordered. “You’re not as good as you think you are. I’ll know you’re there.” 

Soft footsteps echoed as he walked away, and Youngjae listened until they faded under the sounds of Jongup’s heavier breaths.

Youngjae sat in his bed, back stiff as he waited to hear what Jongup would do. A loud thump hit the door, muffling Jongup’s loud “dammit!” Youngjae cringed away from it, wondering if he should go outside and try to talk with Jongup.

Shaking his head, he snorted, keeping his voice quiet to avoid altering Jongup. Like he could help anything. Besides, Youngjae didn’t even know if he wanted to help. His hand tapped against his thighs as he watched the door as though he could see Jongup through it.

Despite his earlier decision to stay out of it, Jongup pulled his door open. The light behind him turned him into a silhouette, and the sudden brightness from the hallway stung Youngjae’s eyes. He jumped, wide eyes staring at Jongup as he caught Youngjae eavesdropping. 

Youngjae opened his mouth to stammer out an – apology? Excuse? He didn’t really know, but Jongup beat him to it.

“Did you stay in here because you’re still scared of me or because you’re ignoring it all like everyone else?” A wry smile crossed his face.

Youngjae’s mouth dried at the question, and Jongup sighed when he didn’t answer, taking a step inside and pushing the door so it shut with a loud click. In the last moments before the light faded away, Youngjae’s eyes had adjusted enough to see the blood on Jongup’s face, dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

Jongup ran his hand across his mouth, wiping it off as he sat on the edge of Youngjae’s bed, as far from Youngjae as possible.

“Of course _you_ don’t care, why would you?” Jongup’s voice grew louder, and he shook his head hard. Something in his neck cracked. Youngjae wished he’d thought to turn the small lamp in the corner on, but now he didn’t dare move. “Say something, goddammit.”

Once again Jongup did what Youngjae was thinking, moving to the wall and flipping the light on. The dim, warm light brightened the room only slightly, leaving Jongup’s face still in shadows but revealing how he clutched at the bedsheets to stop his hands from trembling.

Heart jumping in his throat, Youngjae hesitated before speaking, unsure what Jongup wanted him to say. “I’m sorry?” The words were insignificant, but Jongup’s hands twisted the sheets even further.

“Don’t – pity me.” He spoke through clenched teeth and with so much anger burning in his eyes that Youngjae almost wondered if Jongup would attack him. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Youngjae said, biting his lip. He paused for a moment. With Jongup’s heavy eyes focused on him, he wanted to think through his words carefully. “I just – don’t understand?”

Jongup deflated, the anger dripping from his face until he only looked withdrawn and tired. “Of course you don’t,” he said, his voice so soft Youngjae barely caught the words. “Why would you? You weren’t here.”

“Will you tell me?”

“I –” Jongup hesitated before his expression hardened and his eyes closed off. “You heard him.” He released the sheets from one hand and gestured towards the door. “I need to forget about it.” Jongup dropped his head into his hands, gripping his hair in both fists.

“Sounds like you can’t do that though.”

Jongup raised his head again, but his eyes focused on his hands, almost ignoring Youngjae entirely. His leg bounced on the ground, making the entire bed move. “Junhong’s right,” Jongup admitted. “It’s just – I saved him, and I’m supposed to save him, and Sihwan almost –”

He cut off, trailing a finger in a path along the sheet.

“Junhong left?” Youngjae said, trying to piece together what Jongup told him.

Jongup nodded, but then he immediately shook his head again. “I – wanted to help him,” he said. “He was on the streets and didn’t know how to stay alive. He’s such a fucking idiot, almost died ‘cause he didn’t have warm clothes.” 

“So you helped him?”

“I saved him,” Jongup said. “He was all stuck in the rain and shivering – only fourteen and thought he’d be alright alone.” He scoffed, his eyes finally rising to meet Youngjae’s. As soon as they did, his expression crumbled, and he swallowed before making it harden again. “But then he – he…”

“Something happened with Sihwan?”

Jongup took a shuddering breath. “Junhong trusted him. I told him – but he –” He let out an annoyed whoosh of breath and dropped his head into his hands. “Why am I telling you this? I should – I should just kill you. Who fucking cares what Yongguk says?”

He didn’t even look up as he mumbled the performative threats into his hands. Youngjae didn’t move either. Jongup had done the same thing to Junhong earlier, and like Junhong, Youngjae knew Jongup wouldn’t hurt him.

Jongup raised his head, catching Youngjae’s eyes and sighing. His shoulders slumping forward, and he dropped his eyes to his hands again. “If you fuck things up for us, I really will kill you.” He sounded exhausted. 

Reaching out towards Youngjae, Jongup raised his eyes again, his hand hesitating halfway between them. Youngjae matched his pause, brow furrowing as he wondered whether he should reach out for Jongup.

A brief thought that Jongup meant to hurt him crossed his mind, but he banished it as soon as it came. Youngjae knew he wouldn’t. He knew it from the way Jongup’s fingers curled, as though unsure about reaching out at all.

He knew it from Jongup’s drawn, worried face. Youngjae slipped his hand out from under his covers. His own fingertips curled back, and he played with his lip in-between his teeth. Before he could grab Jongup’s hand, Jongup jerked it back, fisting his hair in his hand and dropping his eyes again. 

He let out a sharp mix of a gasp and sigh, tugging at his hair. Then he stood, and before Youngjae could decide whether to tell him to stay, he left. As he passed through the doorway, Jongup looked back one last time. Their eyes met, and Youngjae got a glimpse of dried blood around Jongup’s lip and the darkening bruise on his jaw.

The door shut behind him with a click, and Youngjae stared at the smooth wood for a long pause after he left, waiting for it all to sink in.

Youngjae stood and grabbed his phone, checking the time and seeing it was nearly four in the morning. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes and climbing back into bed. His bedsheets had a small, brownish stain from how Jongup had wiped the blood from his mouth before clutching at the sheets.

Youngjae didn’t bother to turn the light off, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep again. He sat against the simple wooden headboard of his bed, frowning at the closed door as though continuing to watch it would tell him something new. 

His head pounded but not only from his lack of sleep. Rubbing at his eyes and yawning, Youngjae tried to run what happened through his head.

It made so much sense. Jongup had saved Junhong’s life – only for Sihwan to somehow convince Junhong to betray him. Youngjae didn’t know what happened after that, but somehow Junhong had nearly died, and Jongup… forgave him.

Or at least, Jongup tried to forgive him.

Youngjae’s mind whirled, trying to figure out what to make of everything he’d learned. It didn’t make sense. From the beginning, Jongup had insisted over and over again about how he’d kill him if he considered betraying them.

He’d also focused on Daehyun’s loyalty, and well – Youngjae didn’t particularly disagree about Jongup’s lack of immediate faith in Daehyun, but he also didn’t understand what made them different than Junhong.

Unless it was the obvious answer – Jongup cared for Junhong, cared for him perhaps more than anyone. But if that was the case, then why did Jongup even come into Youngjae’s room?

Youngjae shook his head, pulling himself out of the what-ifs and maybes. He could think circles all day and still not know the answers to those questions. For now, all he could do was wait and see what happened.

Well, that and he needed to figure out how to get into the new security system. Youngjae sighed, leaning over to grab his laptop from his backpack.

There was no way he’d fall back asleep before he needed to meet Jongup. May as well get some work done beforehand. He blinked until the bright light from his laptop didn’t burn his eyes before he pulled up the company’s website and began to search through it. 

Youngjae skimmed the pages, finding the information he needed and making a couple short notes comparing it to other servers he’d hacked in the past. His eyes drooped as the minutes ticked by, but he made considerable progress. It wasn’t until nearly seven that he closed his laptop and got out of bed. 

He got dressed, splashing water on his face and changing into workout clothes. Forcing back a yawn – of course he’d be tired now once he had to get up – he headed outside, sighing at the thought of the run ahead of him.

Youngjae lost his fight against the yawn, rubbing his eyes as he slipped from the old office building. Tiredness pulled at him, and he groaned, taking a second inside to stretch his legs and crack his back. He slipped outside, the chilly wind stinging his skin. 

The air hadn’t yet turned cold, but the mornings had become slightly too cool for his comfortable range, as per usual for October. Sighing, he shut the door behind him, and it banged shut. Youngjae grimaced at the sound, though he doubted anyone was around to hear it. 

Only the day before he’d realized the others spent hardly any time there, and it only took a short jump from there for Youngjae to notice again that they must be withholding things from him.

Made sense. Daehyun certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about the gang’s involvement with drugs, and he apparently ran the entire thing.

Part of Youngjae wanted to press them until he found out more of their secrets, but part of him felt too tired for anything like that. He didn’t know what he found important enough to fight to know, and the uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t even know what he didn’t know trickled down his spine. 

“You’re going to get killed if you don’t start fucking watching what’s around you.” 

Youngjae spun around, letting out a loud gasp at the voice even as he recognized it. Jongup leaned against the bricks of the building, one leg bent at the knee to rest his foot against it. A dark bruise marred his jaw, and his lip was split. 

The same corner with the cut tilted up as he watched Youngjae’s shock, but the amusement dropped from his face as quickly as it had shown up. “Do you even carry a weapon?” At Youngjae’s blank stare, he snorted. “Of course not. You really know nothing, don’t you? No wonder you never realized we were using you.” 

Youngjae’s jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath to keep from clenching his hands into fists. “Don’t say that.”

“What, that we used you?” Jongup pushed off the wall, moving to stand only a couple feet from Youngjae. “You should be grateful I even told you. You should be grateful we even took you in. Do you know what would’ve happened if we left you?”

“I would’ve gotten killed. I know; you’ve told me before.” Youngjae crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He refused to back down. Jongup had treated him better than the others had, but that changed little. He still used Youngjae without a second thought.

And he still lied to Youngjae now too. Youngjae wouldn’t forget that, not when the lies had hurt him so much before. Whether or not these things were important, he had to know them. He hated not knowing, and that anger pushed him forward, taking a step closer to Jongup.

Jongup raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by his show of aggression. “No.” Jongup didn’t sound angry, and his hands couldn’t seem to decide what to do, plucking at the frayed rips in his jeans. One of his hands cupped something on his right hip, and though Jongup’s shirt covered it, Youngjae knew he had a gun there. 

“They would’ve took you in. And they would force you to work with them. He would’ve found you worth keeping and would’ve let you work with him until you weren’t anymore. Maybe it would’ve took years, but only then he’d kill you. Once you became more useful dead than alive.”

Youngjae noted how he’d switched from ‘they’ to ‘he.’ He recognized how Jongup’s eyes went distant, and how his voice lost its sharpness but held gravity behind it. Jongup wasn’t speaking about him anymore, he was talking about Junhong.

But that changed little because Youngjae wasn’t ready to accept his words. Not after all they’d done to him.

“How’s that any different from what you’re doing?” He met Jongup’s eyes, expecting more anger, even wondering if Jongup would draw his weapon, considering how his hand still rested there.

Jongup stared at him, his breaths coming in quickening gasps. His jaw had locked, and the motion as he rolled it drew Youngjae’s eyes. “We’re nothing like them.”

He spun away, walking the opposite direction than normal. Youngjae watched him, eyes following him for about twenty steps before Jongup stopped and turned back. They made eye contact, both tense. Jongup didn’t glare at him, but something had darkened in his eyes.

He didn’t speak; they couldn’t speak without yelling from this distance. But Jongup did jerk his head to the side, clearly indicating for Youngjae to follow. Youngjae hesitated, anger still swirling throughout his stomach and rising in his chest. Jongup stared at him.

Youngjae started to bridge the gap between them. “Why aren’t you like them? You forced me here and tricked me. And you’re the one who threatens to kill me all the fucking time.”

Jongup didn’t answer, didn’t even give him the time of day.

Youngjae clenched his fists at his side, the cooler air making his fingertips cold against his palms. “Where are we going?” 

He still didn’t answer, instead leading Youngjae into an old warehouse. The door banged shut behind them, and Jongup flicked a switch that lit up the entire main floor. Youngjae’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the far wall. 

The concrete had white targets spray painted onto it, and even from a distance, Youngjae could see the marks bullets had left on it, turning the wall into a grotesque canvas. Drops of paint ran down them like whoever had painted them cared little about the result. Had they been red, the effects would have been even more disconcerting, but the white paint still looked stark against the dark grey background, running in small lines towards the ground. 

“You’re teaching me how to shoot?” He turned to look at Jongup as he spoke, and he noticed that in the corner behind Jongup, someone had sprayed several large happy faces. As though to mock them, several bullets had been fired into the black lines. 

Jongup’s hand had gone back to playing with the frayed edges of his jeans. “Something big’s about to happen,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you walk around knowing nothing.” 

Youngjae nodded. “Because of Sihwan?” Jongup hissed at the name, clenching his fists. “You think he’s going to do something?”

Without a word, Jongup huffed, turning and walking to the left. He pulled a small silver key from his pocket and unlocked a door, opening it and going inside. Youngjae watched the closed door, frowning as a couple minutes passed.

He took the time to finish looking around him. Other than the targets and sporadic poles throughout the large room, he didn’t see much. It looked somewhat similar to the other warehouse he’d worked with Jongup.

Some part of him wondered how the gang kept these buildings. Youngjae still knew very little about how the gang worked, but considering Daehyun’s involvements with drugs and the other hits they’d done, they had to have more than enough money to afford places better than these rundown abandoned ones.

The door opened again, and Jongup moved back out, now holding a mid-size black duffel bag. He lowered it to the ground, setting it down with care. Crouching to unzip it, Jongup pulled out a handgun similar to the one Youngjae had seen the others use.

Jongup snorted as he met Youngjae’s wide, scared eyes. “You know nothing about guns, do you?”

Youngjae shook his head, trying to calm his elevated heart rate. 

“I’m only doing this because I don’t want you to get us killed,” Jongup said, reiterating almost the same thing he’d said earlier. He grabbed something else from the bag, cupping his hand around it.

Youngjae nodded, his breath catching in his throat.

“And if you even consider betraying us, I will make you wish I killed you when we met.” Jongup stared at him, and Youngjae held his gaze, unsure if Jongup wanted him to respond or not. Before he could decide what to do, Jongup looked back down at the gun.

He held it out to Youngjae, who hesitated, reaching out to take it only to pull back. 

“It’s not loaded,” Jongup said, his voice softer. “Make sure you keep it unloaded when you aren’t using it.” Youngjae took it from him, holding it out and feeling the weight in his hands. It seemed both heavier and lighter than he expected.

For a weapon that killed people, it sure was easy for him to hold. Youngjae looked back at Jongup, who’d stepped to the side so the gun didn’t point at him from how Youngjae held it. 

“It holds seven bullets at once. Waste them, and you’ll be dead before you can reload.” He held a bullet up. “You need to care for it. If you don’t clean it, it’ll jam.”

“I don’t know how –” Youngjae begin, biting at his lip as Jongup held the cartridge out. 

The roughly bullet-shaped metal looked much too small and felt much too light for something that killed people.

“I’ll teach you.” Jongup took the gun and cartridge back, removing the magazine from the gun. 

His eyes never left Youngjae’s face, staring him down with such an intense gaze that Youngjae felt uncomfortable. He loaded a single cartridge into the magazine, putting it back into the gun. 

“Never point a loaded gun at someone you don’t want to kill.” Jongup raised the gun and pointed it at Youngjae, who froze, stepping back and raising his hands. 

Youngjae could barely focus on his words with the gun pointing at him. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck and his eyes trailed over the gun. He swallowed hard before he realized Jongup’s finger wasn’t even on the trigger. 

His eyebrows came together, and his mouth formed a thin line. He didn’t understand Jongup’s threats anymore – not when he seemed so unwilling to carry them through. 

Jongup seemed to realize the change in him, and he raised the gun higher, aiming it at Youngjae’s head and causing his heart rate to spike again. His voice hardened. “You’d do good to remember I’m not joking about what’ll happen if you fuck things up for us.” 

He pointed the gun to the floor and handed it to Youngjae, who took it with a heavy frown marring his face. It weighed more in his hand, but he didn’t know whether the change was only in his head.

“Safety’s on. It’s the lever next to the trigger. Point it away and push it back.” Youngjae clutched it tighter, following Jongup’s orders as he switched it off. “Try to hit one of the targets.” He nodded towards the far wall.

Youngjae swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he looked at the gun. “I don’t know –”

“Point and shoot,” Jongup said. “Need you to try it before I teach you how to do it right.” Youngjae stared at the gun, raising it towards the wall. His hand shook, making the barrel move back and forth in small, sporadic motions. “Steady your hand with your other. Never shoot without both hands on it. You’ll miss.” 

Youngjae nodded and raised his hand to support his other arm, stopping the gun from shaking so wildly. 

“It’ll be louder than you expect,” Jongup said. “And the gun’ll kick.”

“Should I –?” Youngjae asked, biting his lip. His eyes didn’t leave the targets, focusing on them so hard the lines that the white blurred in his vision. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he didn’t dare move a hand to wipe it off.

“Shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger, and the immediate force of the bullet and the loud bang as the gun fired left Youngjae shaking and the gun clanging against the ground.

He covered his ears, his entire body trembling. Jongup stared at him. “I warned you.” He chuckled and picked up the gun. This time, he pointed it towards the wall. “Look at how I’m holding it. See how steady I’m keeping it? If you’re shaking you’ll never aim right.”

Youngjae nodded, and to his annoyance, his entire body still trembled from the shot. Jongup looked back at him, and something softened in his eyes. He reached out, his hand hesitating before it dropped onto Youngjae’s shoulder. 

“It gets easier,” he said. “Here, try loading it.” Jongup pulled out another cartridge, handing it to Youngjae. “Eject the magazine.” Youngjae bit his lip, jumping a little when the magazine dropped into his hand.

Jongup had to laugh at that. “It won’t hurt you,” he said. “You don’t need to act so scared.” Youngjae frowned, assuming Jongup was mocking him. 

“I know!” he said, trying to defend himself. “I just – it’s –”

Jongup shook his head, his smile growing. “It’s fine,” he said. “This is the first day. It takes a little time to get used to.” He tilted his head towards the targets. “Try it again.”

Youngjae took a deep breath, raising the gun and holding his arms as Jongup had before. This time, he still flinched with the shot, but he kept his hands tight around the gun.

“Better,” Jongup said. “Here.” He handed him another cartridge. “Again.”

Youngjae complied, and he and Jongup spent the next couple hours shooting. 

He grew more comfortable with the gun, and finally, Jongup sat him down and showed him how to clean it and keep it. From his position on a crate adjacent to where Youngjae sat, Jongup watched him take care of it, as Youngjae unloaded it before he put it into the holster Jongup gave him.

“You should be more careful,” Jongup said. He spoke with a casual tone, not even glancing at Youngjae’s face but instead watching his hands.

“Am I not doing it right?”

Jongup shook his head. “Not that.” He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Sihwan’s here for a reason.” 

Youngjae made an understanding sound, pausing his motions and glancing up at Jongup, watching him even when he didn’t meet Youngjae’s gaze.

Jongup played with his hands, fingertips trailing over old lines and scars. “I’m not stupid. I know they all think I’m paranoid, but it wouldn’t hurt to watch your back from now on.” His voice lightened and the speed increased, but his jaw clenched tighter. “But what do I know. They clearly think it’s nothing.” 

He glanced at Youngjae, his eyes still shaded and serious. 

“You’re afraid of him?” Youngjae asked. Jongup sighed.

“No. But last time was bad. And now he’s here again? If nothing else… I don’t like it.” Jongup shook his head, one hand resting on his gun as though Sihwan could pop out at any moment. 

Youngjae nodded, biting his lip as he watched Jongup play with his gun. “You be careful too, yeah?” He didn’t know what made him say it. Of course Jongup could take care of himself.

Jongup scoffed, no doubt thinking the same thing. “As long as I keep Junhong safe, it’ll be okay.” He paused. “You’re lucky, at least. Sihwan doesn’t know who you are. Doubt he even knows you’re working with us. That should keep you safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled with this one - definitely would love some feedback on it! Thank you :)


	14. Self-less Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could say that about any day,” Jongup said, his face hardening again. “You just don’t want to talk about it. He almost fucking got us killed; he almost got himself killed today! It’s not a good fucking day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** for vague mentions of mental health issues and scars. These are in reference to a side character and aren't graphic. There is some discussion of the reasoning behind it, though it's very brief. Please see the end notes for more information.
> 
> Be careful, friends. This is a difficult time.

Youngjae rested an arm on the table, sighing as his laptop blinked through a series of screens, too fast for him to read. A glass half-filled with liquor sat beside him, and its burn still haunted his throat.

“Youngjae?” Yongguk’s voice sounded garbled over the bad connection. He spoke with a calm tone, despite how Youngjae knew the rest of the gang waited for his go-ahead to continue.

“I’m almost in,” Youngjae said, not even glancing at the phone and keeping his eyes locked on his laptop. “Should only be another minute or two.”

“And once you’re in –”

“I’ll tell you how many and where they are.” 

The algorithm on Youngjae’s screen blurred in front of his eyes, and he frowned, his fingertips tapping against the keyboard as he waited. Finally, the movement stopped, and Youngjae’s screen loaded a series of videos onto it. 

He squinted at the grainy videos, peering into the dark rooms and hallways. “I’m in,” he said, his tone absent-minded as he watched for movement in the videos. “There’s – five, all in the main room. I don’t see anyone else.” The men and women appeared dark and blurred in the videos, but Youngjae could tell their locations from their movement.

As he watched, one yawned and used a lighter to create a small flame. She lit a cigarette off of it.

“Good.” Yongguk sounded pleased even over the shitty connection. “Thanks, Youngjae. You did good.” The call disconnected before he could respond, leaving Youngjae in silence, watching the images on his screen like silent movies. The people on his screen spread something onto a table – money.

Now he’d seen it, Youngjae realized there was more money in that room than he’d ever seen in his life. His mouth dropped open as he struggled to make out more through the bad quality, but it was hopeless to even imagine counting it. Stacks stretched across the table, and there were more bags in the corners of the room. He stared at it, finally closing his mouth only to purse his lips as he considered what the others would do with it. 

Youngjae sighed, figuring he'd find out soon enough. He leaned back in his chair and twisted until his back cracked. His part of the job had finished, and now all he could do was watch the hit occur as though it were an action movie. 

This movie had a much higher cost than most, considering the others planned to kill these dealers. Himchan’s informant had told them to expect five people, and all Youngjae could do was confirm they weren’t walking into something they weren’t ready for. His role felt even more pointless than his past one - where he'd literally done something useless - but Jongup had refused for him to be involved in any other way, insisting he wasn’t ready.

Discontent, he shifted in his seat, his gun hitting the arm of the chair. With a wince, he glanced down and rested a hand over it. Though Jongup had told him to start carrying the gun everywhere he went, Youngjae still hadn’t grown used to it, preferring it unloaded and with his ammo in his backpack.

Not to mention he still couldn’t shoot very accurately at all. He’d hoped what he'd learned from the darts would translate over, but they were different weapons. Training to aim a gun had proven time-consuming at best. Youngjae agreed with Jongup about his own incompetence with guns, for as much as Jongup's immediate disagreement when Himchan had mentioned Youngjae joining them had surprised him.

Relief had fluttered through him like a weak-winged bird, still trapped in its cage but attempting to take to the air. Youngjae knew the reprieve wouldn't last long, but he appreciated the extra time Jongup had granted him before he needed to really use his gun.

He rubbed at his stinging eyes, pressing his palms into them to try and relieve the pressure pounding in his head. Sudden motion caught his attention, and he watched the dealers share confused looks before one stood and pulled the garage door open.

The video had no sound, but Youngjae still heard a gunshot echo through his ears as the guy tumbled backward. His heart jumped as the other dealers jerked into action, reaching for weapons they’d never draw as the others made quick work of them.

Youngjae watched, curious what they’d do now they’d completed the mission. Part of him almost expected Yongguk to leave the money, but instead, they made quick work of bagging the loose bills and searching the place. Junhong took a big wad of the cash and slipped it into his jacket. Himchan tapped Junhong's shoulder as he walked by. Neither said anything, but Junhong pulled the money from his pocket and dropped it into one of the bags. 

Several feet from them, Jongup reached for a bookcase, no doubt about to search its contents. Before he could, he jerked back, pointing his gun at one of the dead dealers. Youngjae squinted, trying to make out more, and he thought the dealer shifted.

Clearly, Jongup thought the same thing, for he shot him again. Even with the pixelated view, Youngjae could see the blood running down what was left of the guy’s face. Jongup paused, watching the dead man’s blood before shooting another time and then a third.

By the last shot, the man’s head had become more blood than skin, but Jongup still pointed the gun at him. Youngjae wished he could see his face, curious what he possibly thought as he stared down a very dead body.

With the camera’s angle, he had no hope of seeing Jongup’s expression, but another camera distracted his attention anyway. A flash of movement appeared in the corner of it, and then a man crossed its frame. He traveled across Youngjae's screen, entering each shot and then exiting, only to show up in the next hallway. 

Youngjae’s breath caught as he realized there’d been another man the entire time, except he'd somehow been outside the cameras' sights. He pulled out his phone, hesitating because he didn’t have time to warn Yongguk. The man drew closer and closer, almost running through the familiar halls.

In the main room, Himchan grabbed Jongup’s arm, pulling his gun down and tugging Jongup closer until they were only inches apart. Youngjae had no idea what Himchan said to him, but he could see Jongup’s angry response in the snarl frozen on his face.

The final dealer turned the corner, slowing as he raised his gun and approached. He leaned against the wall, and the camera caught a glimpse of his eyes as he glanced upwards. Youngjae looked between him and the others in the main room, his eyes flickering back and forth. His nails pressed into his thighs as his heart pounded.

He'd thought his heartbeat had already sped to its fastest rate, but it quickened further as he realized Jongup’s back faced the door, and there was no way Jongup would see the guy coming with his attention on Himchan.

He scanned the others with desperate eyes, clutching his useless phone in one hand. He didn't have time.

Daehyun had crouched near one of the men and now flipped through his wallet, only to grab an ID and toss the rest to the ground. Across the room, Junhong played with the money still on the table, laughter echoing across his face.

Yongguk’s eyes snapped up the briefest moment before the final dealer moved into a position where he had a clear shot.

Jongup turned away from Himchan as Yongguk’s mouth opened, no doubt yelling out a warning. Before Jongup had time to spin around and defend himself, Yongguk jumped up and threw himself at Jongup and Himchan, trying to shove them both out of the path of a bullet which hadn’t yet been fired. 

He sent Himchan stumbling and both Yongguk and Jongup thudded to the ground. The dealer hesitated as his clear shot dissolved into chaos, as his targets went sprawling onto the ground. The extra second was all Daehyun needed. Before Yongguk and Jongup had even finished falling, Daehyun had stood, raised his gun, and then the final dealer was also dead.

Eyes wide and hands trembling, Youngjae watched Daehyun walk over and check the guy’s pockets. He flicked his wallet open and slid his ID from the slot before dropping it again.

Jongup shoved Yongguk off of him, sending him reeling away. Even with Jongup's aggressive manner, Yongguk still stretched a hand out to help him up after he'd stumbled to his feet. Jongup shoved it away and stood alone. 

Hands clenched and posture stiff, he stared at Yongguk for a long pause before turning and walking over to Junhong.

Youngjae glanced at the clock, swearing under his breath as he realized he couldn’t stay in the system for much longer without the possibility of detection. He sighed, rebooting the system and watching his screen go dark.

Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to Yongguk, letting him know he couldn’t see anything. Youngjae didn’t expect a response, and Yongguk didn't surprise him. With his screen dark and no communication between him and the others, all he could do was wait.

He didn't know if waiting was an improvement from watching.

Youngjae closed his laptop, leaning back and shutting his eyes. He took a sip of his drink, taking deep breaths and blinking as he tried to calm the lights flashing in his vision from spending so long staring at the screen. The scene replayed in his mind – the merciless murders, Jongup turning to face Himchan, the guy Youngjae couldn’t warn them about.

If Yongguk hadn’t noticed the dealer approaching, Jongup would likely be dead. Youngjae’s hands shook as he comprehended how close he’d come to watching someone die. 

Against his volition, the scene played before his eyes. 

Yongguk’s actions, in particular, made no real sense. He’d thrown himself into Jongup and Himchan, forcing them out of danger in a remarkably sloppy way. Yongguk didn’t seem the type to panic, but Youngjae couldn’t think of another reason for him to react in that way.

Jongup hadn’t responded well to Yongguk’s actions either, tossing him away and moving off. Youngjae frowned, casting the thoughts from his head. He wouldn’t know anything more until he saw them. Shaking his head, he rubbed at his eyes and closed them again.

His ears were ringing; an unfortunate side effect of learning how to shoot from Jongup. Just that morning, Jongup had nodded approval towards him. Youngjae had shot closer to the center of the target than ever before.

Then they had returned to the meeting room, and Jongup had insisted to Yongguk that he didn’t want Youngjae with them when they did this hit. A week ago, with the memory of Jongup’s gun pointed at his head fresh in his mind, Youngjae would have figured Jongup didn’t trust him to not make mistakes, didn’t trust him to not mess everything up.

Before he could figure out why he thought Jongup did it now, the others entered and snapped him from his thoughts.

As usual, Daehyun smiled at him, but instead of sitting next to him, he sat across the table. The others filtered in, and Youngjae winced as he saw the scrapes on both Jongup and Yongguk from their fall.

Jongup had taken the brunt of the impact, and a bruise already had begun to darken across the top of his arm, covering the fading one on his shoulder. His back stiff, Jongup opened and closed his fists as he stared at Yongguk. Himchan tried to catch his eye, to distract his attention, but Jongup refused to look away.

Junhong sat next to Daehyun, his smile bright and growing even wider when Daehyun returned it and leaned over to say something in Junhong’s ear. Whatever Daehyun said made Junhong snort, and Daehyun chuckled, slipping an arm behind his back.

Jongup had finally taken his eyes off Yongguk, moving them to stare at Junhong for another long pause. Junhong avoided the gaze in favor of talking with Daehyun, and when it became more than obvious that Junhong didn’t plan on acknowledging him, Jongup stepped around the table.

He shot another angry glance at Yongguk as he passed, but as he took a seat next to Youngjae, he dropped his gaze to his hands. Yongguk matched his posture, and neither looked towards each other. The lighter clicked in the background, melodic and sharp as the scrapes of chairs and small adjustments seemed to accentuate the much different sound. 

Once they’d all settled, Himchan raised a large black duffel onto the table, opening it to reveal stacks and stacks of Korean money. Despite the large quantity, it no doubt was a fraction of what had been in the room. Without a word, Himchan began to count them, no doubt planning to divide it between them. 

The sight of it reminded Youngjae of the nearly one thousand dollars still in his backpack.

Other than clothes and food, he’d yet to buy anything. Daehyun had suggested he could get an apartment weeks ago, but doing that meant commitments Youngjae wasn’t prepared to make. It meant a fake name, a created identity. He could do it, but an apartment would bring more problems than just that.

Youngjae didn’t know where he’d be in a month, let alone knew enough to sign a yearlong lease. 

If he still planned on eventually escaping the gang, owning an apartment nearby wouldn’t make that any easier. The thought of betraying them made him glance towards Jongup, reminding him of how close they sat. Youngjae had done this before, where he contemplated betraying them all and stared at Jongup.

This time, Youngjae knew less than ever before. He understood more about Jongup, whose attention focused on Yongguk. Youngjae also knew more about their situation, how the gang functioned and how they wanted him to fit into their operations.

For possibly the first time since he’d began working with them, Youngjae didn’t know himself anymore, nor could he navigate his mind well enough to know his most basic goals.

Youngjae shook the thoughts from his head. This wasn’t the time for contemplating his situation, not when he still had so much to learn about the gang. His eyes found Jongup again, and Jongup’s eyes flickered to him for a brief second before darting back to Yongguk.

He stared at him as Yongguk created a small flame over the table before putting out and relighting it. Over and over, the pattern continued. They created a warm shadow the dark wood under them, and the polish gleamed. The light caught on Yongguk’s glass; its reflection glared into Youngjae’s eyes.

Yongguk’s hand tapped against the table beside it, as though the fire alone wasn’t enough. Youngjae could see Himchan glancing towards him even as he counted the money, and his arm reached out to rest on Yongguk’s chair.

Yongguk didn’t lean back into the arm for comfort, not even seeming to notice Himchan’s attention on him. Youngjae could see a scrape on his forearm, red and inflamed. His eyes trailed over the rest of his arms, looking for other fresh wounds amid the older scars. He spotted several slight red circles near his elbow.

The circles hardly stood out against his tan skin, only the circumference of a pencil’s eraser. They didn’t look painful, but Youngjae knew he wasn’t imagining them. He stared for a moment, wondering what caused a scar like that.

As though to answer his question, Yongguk moved his arms to hold his lighter closer. He lit the flame, watching it go from yellow to blue before allowing it to go out. 

Once he'd lit it again, he ran a finger through the flame, quick enough that the fire left no marks on his skin – unlike what it had done to his forearms.

Yongguk could do everything to try and redeem himself, Daehyun had said, but it would never work. He would never believe he’d become a good person, but locked in this life and without any other options, he did what he could.

Youngjae understood why he hadn't just shot the guy, why he had thrown himself at Jongup and Himchan. His heart ached as he watched Yongguk’s bony form and hunched shoulders, flicking his lighter and playing with the flame.

He called them family. Yongguk loved them all like family. 

Youngjae stole another glance at Jongup and saw his gaze hadn’t left Yongguk. He had clenched his hands together in his lap, the force of the grip making his skin whiten where his fingers dug into it. Jongup’s anger made sense. The awkward silence made sense.

The realizations pounded in Youngjae’s ears and echoed through him so loudly he almost expected Jongup could hear them.

Himchan slid a stack of bills towards him, and Youngjae jumped as it entered his vision. He must have zoned out for longer than he had thought if Himchan had already finished counting it. Looking around the table, Youngjae noticed Junhong and Daehyun both counting theirs, but Jongup had left his untouched on the table.

Yongguk slipped one bill from the stack and lit it on fire, holding it until the flames licked at his fingers. He hissed and dropped it on the table when the pain grew too great, watching it burn itself out. The bill left a black spot on the otherwise unmarked wood.

Jongup trembled next to him, finally breaking his silent, frozen stare. Still, his eyes remained on Yongguk’s face, desperation dancing in his eyes. “Are you not going to say anything?” He addressed Himchan, then turned and motioned towards the entire table. “Will none of you say anything?”

“Say what you want, Jongup,” Daehyun said. Junhong hadn’t looked at Jongup when he spoke, but he turned to glance at Daehyun now. “Don’t pull us into it.”

“You know what he’s doing.” Jongup spun back to Himchan, almost spitting the words at him. Yongguk lit another bill on fire, fingers clenching it tighter than necessary as the flames moved down it. “Are you not going to say anything?

“Jongup,” Himchan said, holding up a hand. “This isn’t the time –”

“You always say that,” Jongup said, his voice deceptively soft for how his eyes had narrowed. He took a deep breath. “Why? Because Youngjae’s here? That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jongup’s arm gestured towards Youngjae, coming close to hitting them from how close they sat. Youngjae flinched away from his hand, and Jongup’s glare faltered before darkening again.

“Because today’s a good day,” Himchan said, his eyes pleading with Jongup, who shrank back only to clench his jaw and lean forward again.

“You could say that about any day,” Jongup said, his face hardening again. “You just don’t want to talk about it. He almost fucking got us killed; he almost got himself killed today! It’s not a good fucking day.”

Himchan’s composure had begun to slip, his frown deepening further and further. His eyes glistened a little too bright, emotions glimmering in a way Youngjae hadn't seen before.

Yongguk finally raised his head and met Jongup’s eyes. “That’s enough, Jongup,” he said.

“Why are you here if you don’t care about us?” 

He flinched, letting the bill flutter from his grip and onto the table. Himchan put the small flame out, using the sleeve of his jacket to smother it.

“I care.” Yongguk’s voice dropped to a threatening growl which ordered him to stop speaking. It didn’t fool Jongup.

“Then why? Why do you want to die?” Jongup’s hand trembled, his palm pressed flat against the table. Youngjae could see how stiff and straight he sat, muscles clenched and tense. 

“I don’t –”

Jongup laughed, interrupting him. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Yongguk said. Jongup’s throat worked as he swallowed, tilting his head back and taking a shaky breath as he waited for Yongguk to finish. “I don’t want to die, Jongup. I panicked. It was stupid, and I’m sorry.”

Jongup’s entire body trembled, and his breath came out in audible gasps. He turned and looked at Youngjae, but of course, Youngjae wasn’t the person he wanted next to him. Junhong still refused to look at him, and Daehyun’s cool gaze said nothing.

“That’s – no. You wouldn’t panic. You never panic. Ever.” Jongup had become nervous, his gaze roaming the table, unable to linger on Yongguk for too long. “Why?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you in danger like that – and – and Himchan too.” Yongguk paused, tongue licking over his lips as he struggled to clear his throat enough to speak. Jongup sat totally still, hands gripping the bottom of the table. “I couldn’t watch it.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Jongup said, his voice only a bare, rough whisper. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Yongguk said. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry, Jongup.”

“Don’t do it again.” The strength had returned to Jongup’s voice. “Don’t.” It still sounded strained.

Youngjae couldn’t watch anymore. He looked at Himchan, wondering what he thought about the situation. 

Himchan had regained his normal, expressionless face, but something flickered in his eyes as Yongguk leaned forwards towards Jongup, and that was all Youngjae needed to know the truth.

Himchan knew Yongguk was lying to Jongup. Youngjae looked around the table. Junhong had closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair, but Daehyun met Youngjae’s eyes and grimaced, as though judging the others for the deception.

“I need to go.” Youngjae stood, his chair scraping against the floor. His gun banged against his chair with the sudden motion, and he winced but ignored the blunder. Without waiting for anyone to react, he pushed through the door, stepping outside. 

“Youngjae? Wait-” Jongup said, his eyebrows scrunching together as he started to speak only for the slam of the door cut him off. Youngjae hesitated, half turning back towards the heavy door before shaking his head and walking away. He moved through the hallway, realizing as he went that he’d left both the money and his backpack behind.

At least he didn’t need anything in it. Youngjae shivered in the fall wind as he moved outside. It had already grown dark, but he couldn’t bear to remain in the office with the others, not after what had happened.

He considered walking to the warehouse and practicing his aim, but the idea of firing a gun disgusted him, especially since he’d just left Jongup behind. Hiding his hands in his pockets, Youngjae looked back and forth, wondering where to go.

Before he could decide, the door opened behind him, and he spun around. “Jong – oh.” 

“We need to talk,” Himchan said, standing in the doorway. “Come back inside.”

“Another time.”

Himchan moved the rest of the way out the door, sighing as the door shut behind him and the fall wind continued to blow. “It’s important.” Youngjae half-shrugged, watching him. “I know you’re still pretty new,” he said. “And we haven’t told you everything.”

“Tell me about it,” Youngjae said, under his breath, but he knew for sure Himchan caught it by how his jaw clenched a little tighter.

“You’re angry.”

“Good observation,” Youngjae said. “What gave you that idea?”

Himchan held up a hand. “Calm down. I’m trying to tell you something.”

“I don’t believe anything you say.” Youngjae shook his head, light shivers still racking through him as he adjusted to the cold. “You just lied to Jongup too. Do you tell anyone the truth?”

Himchan sighed. “I won’t lie to you,” he said.

“You just lied to –”

“Jongup’s different.” Himchan’s breath left small puffs of water vapor in the unseasonably cold air. “It’s better he doesn’t know some things.”

“You’re wrong,” Youngjae said. “It’s going to hurt you if you don’t tell him –”

Himchan’s indulgent air disappeared, and his expression darkened, becoming the closed off one that Youngjae recognized. “I’ve known Jongup for years. You met him a month ago. There’re two ways to learn things, Youngjae. You can listen to us, or you can find out on your own and probably die in the process. It’d do you good to choose the first.”

“Don’t you trust him?” Youngjae clenched his hands into fists. “It’s Jongup.”

Himchan’s gaze grew cold. Youngjae took an unconscious step back, and Himchan's eyes ran over him before he turned and went back inside. “Take a weapon with you, wherever you go. Streets aren’t safe these days.”

“Because of Sihwan?” The door shut behind Himchan with a sharp click. Youngjae stared at it for another second before shaking his head. He growled under his breath, pissed that Himchan would talk to him as he did.

Youngjae shivered again in the wind, but the need to go somewhere else beat out his desire for a warmer jacket or to inside. He began to jog.

For as much as he’d hated the route in the beginning, the burn in his lungs never failed to help clear his mind, and he’d found himself almost missing it ever since he and Jongup moved to the other warehouse.

The gun moved uncomfortably against his thigh, but it took Youngjae several minutes for him to realize he hadn’t loaded it. “Fuck,” Youngjae said, under his breath. He slowed to a stop, looking down at the useless weapon on his hip.

The idea of going back and facing the others – especially due to his own incompetency – left a bad taste in his mouth. He wouldn’t do it. Youngjae shook his head, beginning to walk again as sweat dripped down his chilled back. With a quick glance around him, Youngjae saw the streets were deserted, without even the slight morning traffic he’d grown used to.

He would be okay. In reality, Jongup’s insistent worry over Sihwan and their safety was most likely paranoia. Even with what Sihwan did to Junhong, it likely had been a coincidence that Daehyun saw him that day. Seeing him once meant nothing. 

Youngjae ran a hand through his sweaty hair, making it stick into spikes as he got nearer to the warehouse. He slipped through the doors to the warehouse, moving towards the dartboards as he finished catching his breath. Rubbing his hands up over his arms, Youngjae waited until his teeth stopped chattering and he’d forced warmth back into his skin.

Grabbing the darts out of the board, Youngjae grinned at the sharpened one, latent pride still flooding his chest at the accomplishment. He moved back, throwing the darts one at a time. All three struck in the bullseye. 

After a week of failing with a gun, succeeding with the darts made Youngjae’s face split into a smile, despite everything. If only bullets came as easily to him as the darts had, then he could maybe get somewhere.

As Youngjae stepped back over to grab them from the board, he froze, an idea coming to him. 

Maybe even without a gun, he could protect himself. Jongup had said throwing knives didn’t work, but part of that was because knives spun in the air, making it a fifty-fifty chance of whether the blade of the hilt would hit the target.

He wouldn’t have a long range with a dart, but he could throw it quickly. Not to mention, no one would expect it. 

Youngjae pulled the previously broken dart from the board, running his fingers over the tip. 

As it was, it left only a small scratch on his finger, but he would sharpen it further. Smiling, Youngjae sharpened the dart until just touching it made a pinprick of blood appear on his finger. 

Maybe he had a weapon after all.

He doubted he could kill someone with it, but throwing it at someone would hurt them a hell of a lot.

Youngjae threw the other two darts for a while longer, slipping the sharpened one into his pocket so he didn’t dull the tip. His final excitement leached the remaining energy out of him, and he sank to the ground, leaning against a pillar. Glancing at the time, he grimaced, wishing he'd only gone to his room. Youngjae closed his eyes, leaning back and wrapping his jacket around him. He would go back soon, after a short rest.

It was over an hour later when a sharp ringing jarred him, and he jerked awake, gasping. His hand searched for the source of the ringing, finally hitting his phone and grabbing it. He squinted bleary eyes at the name before answering. “Hello?”

“Are you okay? Where are you?” Yongguk’s voice sounded panicked and rushed. Youngjae could hear traffic in the background of the call.

“Wh - what? The - the warehouse. And I'm fine? Why?"

“Stay – stay there.” Yongguk didn’t bother to answer Youngjae’s question. “I’ll come get you. Don’t leave.”

"What happened?” Youngjae's exhaustion had receded for the moment, adrenaline spurred by Yongguk's obvious fear.

The phone only beeped in his ear, signaling the end of the call. Youngjae didn’t lower it for another minute, pleading with it to explain more to him.

But of course it didn’t; Youngjae could do nothing but wait. For a long minute, he sat at the base of the pillar, his knees hugged to his chest. His mind ran situations before his eyes, trying to comprehend why Yongguk would be so worried.

He had even sounded afraid, and now he was on his way. Youngjae's breath caught as he realized Yongguk had worried someone else had gotten to Youngjae first. Someone was coming.

He stumbled to his feet and fear bubbled in him as he stared at his useless, empty gun. Then he gritted his teeth and turned to face the entrance. Youngjae didn't have a gun, but he had something.

The tip of the sharpened dart pressed painfully against his palm, but he welcomed the feeling. Youngjae stared into the darkness. He watched and waited, unable to do anything else. Maybe that would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings: Attempted sacrifice for other people and self-harm scars, particularly from burning oneself. If anyone would wish for a version without these, please send me an ask or a message on Tumblr (even anonymously).


	15. Lying Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know.” Himchan’s face struggled to remain impassive before he finally gave up and took a shuddering breath. He pressed a shaking, half-closed fist against his mouth, taking a moment to calm himself before he could speak again. “We’ll get him back.”
> 
> Despite his sure words, Himchan’s mourning eyes were filled with such sadness that Youngjae didn’t believe him.

Youngjae leaned against one of the pillars, his eyes drooping shut even as his hand clenched tighter around his dart. He forced them back open, pulling his phone from his pocket to find Yongguk had called him nearly thirty minutes ago. 

Taking deep, slow breaths, Youngjae tried to slow his heart down and stay calm. It wouldn’t help anything if he panicked, especially as it had become clear no one would jump out and attack him. He cringed, feeling a little silly for how he’d immediately prepared to fight someone after getting Yongguk’s call.

From behind him, something creaked in the warehouse, and he whirled around, despite it being a sound he’d often heard the old building make. Youngjae scoffed, hating how his heart had jumpstarted again. He needed to go do something, anything, as long as he didn’t continue to only wait. 

His steps crunched over the dirty floor, and he huffed, the corners of his lips rising into a nostalgic smile – as though it had been more than a couple weeks ago when Jongup had been tossing him into the dust. He’d changed since then, a fact evident by the useless gun at his hip.

Evident by how he’d thought someone meant to harm him, and he’d reacted by planning to throw a dart through their eye.

Youngjae stared at the leftmost of the three dartboards, the one Jongup used whenever he played with throwing knives. He’d nearly ruined it; deep gashes ran through different parts of the board, and the bullseye had long since been destroyed. 

The colors had faded on it, compared to the other two, and Youngjae’s eye caught something silver on its edge. With a curiosity brought by the need to distract himself, Youngjae slipped his dart back into his pocket and took the board off the wall.

He turned it, his eyes following the silver. On the back of the board, someone had written a note with a silver sharpie.

_Happy 16th, don’t lose an eye.  
-E_

Youngjae flipped it back over, leaning forward to hang it again. Before he could, footsteps started up behind him, and he whirled around, dropping the board in his haste to pull his dart out again.

It clattered to the ground as he half-jerked forward, but Youngjae never raised his arm the entire way to throw, recognizing Yongguk before he finished the motion. Youngjae breathed a small sigh of relief at the sight of him, but he couldn’t help a small admonishment to himself.

If it hadn’t been Yongguk, the person could have shot him long before he had his weapon out again. He had to pay better attention. It had been stupid of him to lose his focus.

Youngjae walked out to meet Yongguk, who stopped and stared at him. 

“Youngjae.” He sounded relieved. “Good.”

“What happened? Why are you here?” 

Yongguk didn’t answer him, back stiff and hands fiddling together before he turned and starting walking away. 

Youngjae followed. “What’s going on?”

Anger rose in him as Yongguk ignored him again, but Youngjae shoved it down. Something bad had happened – clearly – and the last thing he needed to do was antagonize Yongguk. He’d been lucky Yongguk had gotten to him before whatever nameless threat did.

Well, either nameless or Sihwan. Perhaps everything Jongup had warned them about had happened. 

Jongup’s car was pulled up outside the door, still running. Its headlights were on, spotlighting part of the wall despite how the early morning sun had brightened the night to dawn. 

Youngjae scrambled into it, moving with a haste Yongguk didn’t seem to share. Youngjae's forehead wrinkled as he ducked his head from inside the car, trying to see why Yongguk took more time to get into the driver’s seat than it had taken Youngjae to walk around the car and get in.

He finally pulled open the door, his motions still almost painfully slow. Yongguk’s eyes were wide, staring at the road as he clenched and unclenched his fingers around the wheel. As he pulled away, the car bounced against the curb, jerking Youngjae forward in his seat. Still, Yongguk said nothing.

He drove slow. Youngjae would’ve called him overcautious, if not for how the car swerved over the road, migrating too close to the curb and then over the middle line as Yongguk overcompensated. 

Maybe Yongguk wasn’t watching the road at all as he drove but instead stared into a mess of thoughts so dense they’d become opaque and blinded him.

Tapping his fingers on his pants, Youngjae waited for Yongguk to get them back. He watched out the window, as though the buildings which rolled slowly by could answer questions for him. As expected, they were about as responsive as Yongguk.

“Where are you going?” Youngjae asked, his brow furrowing as Yongguk turned off the route he knew. Yongguk still didn’t answer, and Youngjae turned to stare at him. “The club?”

“He’s in the back room.” After so much silence, Yongguk’s hoarse voice jarred him.

“Who?” Youngjae asked. “What happened?” But Yongguk had returned to silence, his eyes unblinking as he continued to clench the steering wheel.

Yongguk parked crooked, one wheel going onto the curb as he pulled in front of the club, not bothering to park in a real space. 

Youngjae jogged to keep up with Yongguk as he pushed through the doors as though he owned the club. The bar area looked much less impressive without its lights on, all dark wood and a messy floor. Behind the bar, a girl wiped down glasses. She didn’t look up as they passed her, despite how they’d entered when it was clearly closed. 

Yongguk pushed through a door in the back, moving forward through a small hallway before going through another doorway. They entered a large room, with a big couch to one side of it and a coffee table covered with bottles of liquor. On the other side, Himchan crouched in front of Jongup, who slouched over in a hard-backed chair. Something white had been wrapped around Jongup’s head.

Youngjae froze in the doorway, watching Himchan cup a hand around Jongup’s jaw and raise his eyes. His entire face was contorted with pain, but it took Youngjae a second to comprehend why. Then he saw it, and a gasp tore its way from his throat.

The blood drying on Jongup’s neck was a deep brick red color. It sank into his shirt, leaving a stain which still looked wet and dark. Youngjae’s mind whirled, struggling like wheels trying to gain traction on ice as it attempted to make sense of the scene before him.

He could just barely catch the sound of Himchan comforting Jongup, telling him he’d be okay. Himchan, too, had blood on him, but mostly on his hands. He also had a little in his hair, as though he’d ran a bloody hand through it. 

“What happened?” Youngjae took a tentative step towards Jongup. He raised his head at Youngjae’s voice, and his unhealthy, pale skin only highlighted the dark stains further. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, leaving his hair a wet, bloody mess. Himchan raised a small bag of ice and went to hold it against his head.

Jongup tried to grab it from him, but Himchan nudged his hand out of the way and pressed it against the towel where the worst of the red stain was.

He groaned and shut his eyes, covering his face with a trembling hand and looking back down. 

Youngjae hesitated in the doorway, glancing back and forth, unsure what to do. Jongup opened his eyes again as Yongguk dropped a hand on his shoulder, looking up to face him.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shook, and his words slurred together, not so badly that he was hard to understand but enough to show something was wrong. “You need to go find him.” Yongguk shook his head, not speaking as he squeezed Jongup’s shoulder harder.

Youngjae turned to look around the rest of the room, starting as he realized both Daehyun and Junhong were missing from it. Jongup wouldn’t care about Daehyun like that, which made the missing person all too obvious.

Junhong was gone. And whoever had hurt him had either also hurt Junhong – or, Youngjae disliked how this thought immediately came to mind – it had been Junhong who’d hurt Jongup. It wouldn’t be the first time, considering how Jongup still had a lingering bruise from Junhong.

Jongup pressed a weak hand against the arm of the chair, forcing himself to his feet. He swayed, taking deep breaths as Himchan rose with him. Without a word, he pulled Jongup back against his chest, his movements so gentle they made it clear Jongup either didn’t want to resist or couldn’t.

Most likely the latter, considering how heavy Himchan’s frown became as he maneuvered Jongup back into the chair.

“We can’t do anything right now,” Himchan said. “You know that.”

“Himchan,” Jongup pleaded, somehow only needing to say his name to convey what he wanted. He wiped a hand across his face, leaving a streak of blood. “They have Junhong.” His voice weakened further, and his head lolled forward when Himchan stopped supporting it.

“I know.” Himchan’s face struggled to remain impassive before he finally gave up and took a shuddering breath. He pressed a shaking, half-closed fist against his mouth, taking a moment to calm himself before he could speak again. “We’ll get him back.”

Despite his sure words, Himchan’s mourning eyes were filled with such sadness that Youngjae didn’t believe him.

They’d do anything they could to get him back. It was Junhong; they’d never abandon him, but Himchan already didn’t look hopeful, and a third option came to Youngjae: that Junhong hadn’t been taken, he’d been killed. Perhaps Himchan had saved Jongup but been too late to help Junhong.

The thought made him shiver, his stomach flopping over with the thought of Junhong being dead, and he pushed it from his head. Jongup would know if he was dead.

Yongguk stood up, walking away as Himchan returned to cleaning the wound on Jongup’s head. He moved near the door, pulling his lighter from his pocket and playing with it. Youngjae took a step forward, out of the doorway, and Yongguk slipped through behind him, not making a single sound until the door shut with a soft click.

“Open your eyes, Jongup.” Himchan’s sharp voice made Youngjae jump and turn in time to see Himchan lifting Jongup’s head. 

He groaned, blinking as he forced his eyes open. “Don't be so loud,” Jongup muttered, his eyes still half-closed.

“Youngjae.” Himchan called him without turning around, and Youngjae jumped again before stepping over. “Talk to him. Keep him awake while I replace this.”

Youngjae crouched next to Jongup. His heavy breaths sounded painful, and he clutched a hand against his knee as Himchan prodded at his head. Jongup raised his head enough to see Youngjae before dropping it again.

He’d never seen Jongup look vulnerable before. It terrified Youngjae that whoever had Junhong – Sihwan, it had to be Sihwan – had managed to hurt him like this. Jongup put everything he had into protecting Junhong; he’d made that clear time and time again. His everything hadn't been enough, and he was lucky they hadn't killed him.

“Talk to him, Youngjae!” The note of panic in Himchan’s voice caused its volume to rise louder than Youngjae had ever heard it, and he jerked into action.

Youngjae swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. “Guess we’re not training for a while then.” 

Despite everything, Jongup snorted, raising his head to stare at Youngjae with unfocused eyes. Maybe Jongup felt better pretending there wasn’t a huge, glaring problem. “You wish.” His voice shook. “Still got a lot to learn.”

“I’ll beat you again.”

“I’ll kick your ass.” Jongup managed a weak smile. It struck Youngjae as ironic that one of the friendliest conversations he’d ever had with Jongup happened as Himchan unwrapped a bloody towel from Jongup’s head. 

He pretended to not see how Jongup’s brown hair had turned a mucky black from his blood, or how blood dripped from Himchan’s arms to the floor. “I’m up to like twenty push-ups in a row. I can take you.” 

Jongup chuckled, but it cut off as Himchan hit a particularly tender spot. He winced, clutching his knee harder. Youngjae bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating before he reached out and grabbed Jongup’s hand in his own. 

Jongup accepted his touch, bleary eyes looking down at their hands. Himchan pressed on another area, and Jongup inhaled sharply, squeezing Youngjae’s hand tight in his own.

Youngjae had never realized how much he’d accepted Jongup’s presence as a strong constant in his life. Seeing him so weak left Youngjae shaking, trying to comprehend how this happened.

Jongup’s head fell forward again, and Youngjae jerked forward. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. No response. “Jongup.” More insistent. Fear bubbled in his stomach.

Wasn’t it bad if people with head injuries fell asleep? Youngjae wasn’t positive, but he thought that was important.

Jongup raised his head again with another groan. “Not asleep,” he said, barely muttering the words. “Spinning.”

“You’re dizzy?” Youngjae asked. He nodded, just barely moving his head. “Just keep talking to me, okay?”

“Where’s Junhong?” More sweat rolled down his face, and he blinked it out of his eyes with a hiss and a squeeze of Youngjae’s hand. Youngjae looked down and realized he also had goosebumps running up his arms. 

“I –” Youngjae knew enough about concussions to know confusion came with them. He bit his lip, deciding it wasn’t a good idea to remind Jongup of what happened. “Junhong’s fine.”

“No, he’s –” He raised his head, eyes snapping open the rest of the way. Himchan made a small protesting sound but didn’t force his head back down. Jongup dropped it anyway. “Gonna be sick.” He tightened his grip on Youngjae’s hand. 

Youngjae looked behind him, trying to find something, anything, for Jongup to throw up into. 

“Here.” Himchan pushed a small bucket around Jongup. Youngjae grabbed it, moving it towards Jongup’s lap just in time.

Youngjae winced, squeezing his hand to try and comfort him. Jongup’s head fell forward once he’d finished, sweat dripping off his face and hand trembling in Youngjae’s grasp. 

“I’ll get you water,” he said, standing and releasing Jongup’s hand. Jongup held onto him for an extra second before letting go. 

Youngjae walked out without glancing back, going to the bartender. “I need water.” She glanced up at him, looking him over. He realized too late that he’d forgotten to even take his gun off, but she didn’t react to it, only setting a water bottle on the bar.

Youngjae blinked at her silence, but this wasn’t the time to figure it out. He had bigger concerns anyway.

It hit him that Daehyun wasn’t there, but that didn't surprise him. Except when they had work, Daehyun tended to stay far from the others. Besides, Jongup probably wouldn’t want Daehyun there, not with how close Junhong had gotten with Daehyun and with how Jongup couldn’t defend himself. 

Perhaps his absence was a good thing. The last thing Jongup needed right now was more stress.

Youngjae spotted Yongguk at a small table near the bar. As he watched, Yongguk took a sip of his drink and dropped his head into his hands. “Yongguk!” He turned, dropping his glass onto the table with a hard thump.

Youngjae paused, realizing he hadn’t planned out a question. “It was Sihwan, wasn’t it? And – and that gang?”

Yongguk nodded, the bags under his eyes looked worse than ever. He looked exhausted, wrinkles stuck in his forehead and his eyes drooping. 

“Do you think –?” Youngjae couldn’t finish the question, not with how Yongguk stared at him. Of their own volition, his eyes dropped to Yongguk’s arms. A couple new burns dotted the inside of his left forearm. 

Yongguk noticed him watching it and moved his arms to hide them. “Junhong will be fine. We’ll figure it out.” He dropped his eyes to the ground. The lie wasn’t anywhere near believable. 

“Where’s Daehyun?” Youngjae changed the subject, not wanting to think about Junhong too hard. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He’s never here this time of day,” Yongguk said. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Guilt bubbled up in Youngjae for pushing him for more answers. “I called him. He didn’t answer.” Youngjae frowned, moving closer and setting the water on the table as he tried to organize his mind well enough to know what to ask.

“Jongup probably needs that.” Yongguk looked away. “Just take it to him.”

Yongguk was right. He could ask about everything later. Youngjae scooped up the water bottle and nodded at Yongguk, who didn’t see it, before he headed towards the back room.

Inside, he found Himchan crouched in front of Jongup. He whispered comforting words to Jongup, and he’d taken Jongup’s hand in both of his. Jongup had leaned forward and rested his head on Himchan’s shoulder, not reacting to the words except for how he squeezed Himchan’s hands. 

Loathe to interrupt the moment but knowing Jongup needed water, Youngjae stepped forward. Himchan glanced back at him. “I have water,” he said, as though it was necessary. Jongup raised his head and blinked up at him. He handed Jongup the bottle, even though he hesitated before taking it. 

Himchan stood, pulling away from Jongup. “Stay with him,” he said. “I need to go.”

Youngjae grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside Jongup, taking his hand again.

Himchan had finished cleaning Jongup’s head and had wrapped a fresh white cloth around it. The sweat had begun drying on his forehead, leaving it shiny and sticky. He made no move to drink the water, even though his mouth had to taste awful.

“Am I allowed to close my eyes?” Jongup sounded a little better, put together enough for his voice to come out dry. 

Himchan paused at the door. “You feel better?” he asked. Jongup went to shake his head, then grimaced and thought better of it.

“Yeah, 'm just dizzy”

“Youngjae, stay here and watch him.” Himchan pulled the door open. “Call me if anything happens.” Youngjae nodded, but Himchan still stared back at them.

“Go,” Jongup said. “I’ll listen to my babysitter, promise.” He already did sound better, but Youngjae could see a glimpse of the bloodstain on the towel wrapped around his head.

Himchan left, letting the door swing shut behind him. Jongup finally took a sip of his water, grimacing as he swallowed. He swished around some more of the water in his mouth, spitting it into the bucket. 

“I could get you more?”

“It’s fine.” Jongup spoke with a quiet voice.

“Or I could help you to the couch if you want to lay down?”

Jongup didn’t respond. He leaned forward, curling in on himself and closing his eyes. Youngjae frowned, watching him try and balance himself into a comfortable position.

He wouldn’t find one, not in a chair like that. Youngjae reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

Jongup’s eyes snapped open, and he groaned again, moving one hand to cover his eyes. Youngjae froze. “I’ll turn the lights off, then let me help you to the couch.”

“No.”

“You’re going to fall if you try and rest like that.”

“I’ve slept worse places.”

Youngjae sighed, standing and moving to the lights. He flicked the lamp off, moving back to his chair in the now darker room. Jongup still curled up, leaning forward and facing away from Youngjae. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, trembling in the position.

“Jongup –” Youngjae cut off, unsure of what he wanted to say. He continued to pretend to sleep, not talking. The trembles grew worse the longer the silence stretched.

“I was right.” Jongup’s voice cracked as the words forced themselves out. “They have Junhong.”

“We’ll get him back,” Youngjae said, promising him.

“I didn’t even see how many there were.” Jongup lifted his head, swiping at his eyes and then clenching that fist. Youngjae could see water left on his hand from the small amount of light coming from the hallway.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“They did this on purpose. Wanted me to live.” Jongup took a long, shaky breath. “They want us to rescue him.”

“Why?” Youngjae knew he shouldn’t push Jongup, not when he so clearly needed rest, but he also knew he’d get few opportunities where anyone would answer these questions for him.

Jongup sighed. “I don’t know.” He shifted his body to face Youngjae. “I couldn’t protect him.”

Youngjae didn’t know how to respond to that, so he said nothing, staying still as Jongup stood up. He’d gotten more stable on his feet, but Youngjae stood with him, helping him to the couch.

When he sat down, Jongup pulled Youngjae’s arm until he sat down too. Instead of lying flat, Jongup leaned to rest his head on Youngjae’s shoulder. Jongup’s breath puffed against his neck, but the warm air nearly caused Youngjae to shiver, something he only managed to hold back.

“I don’t trust you,” Jongup said. Youngjae barely caught the words. “I won’t let you fuck this up.”

Youngjae nodded, making the motion as small as possible. Jongup didn’t say anything else, and Youngjae finally relaxed, pretending he didn’t feel tears against his skin, even hotter than Jongup's breath. It took a long time, long enough that Youngjae’s eyes drooped and he began to fall asleep, for the tears to stop.

Even longer after that, when Youngjae woke from a short time where he’d drifted off, Jongup finally slept, his breathing calm and body warm.

Youngjae couldn’t convince himself to feel bad about how he’d pushed Jongup. It helped him to know Jongup’s thoughts on Sihwan and why they’d taken Jongup. 

The idea of some sort of gang war between the two terrified Youngjae, but he couldn’t imagine them ever leaving Junhong in their hands. He hoped they’d leave him out of it, though.

If Jongup found him not good enough to help on an easy hit, then he wouldn’t let Youngjae help them rescue Junhong. 

Then again, Youngjae didn’t know how serious Jongup’s head injury was, but he doubted Jongup would be helping them get Junhong back anytime soon. For as much as he’d improved while Youngjae watched him, Jongup still had those unfocused, bleary eyes.

Youngjae doubted he would have remained sitting there if Jongup thought he was alright; he’d be with Yongguk and Himchan, working to get Junhong back.

A passing thought nudged him, trying to point out why Jongup’s injury should matter to him, and it took Youngjae a minute to put it together.

His plans to get away. All the plans he'd created to make sure he escaped the gang still able to make a life for himself. Youngjae had feared Jongup coming for him and so he’d dropped the plans to the back of his mind. 

He raised his hand to run it through Jongup’s hair, grimacing as dried blood flaked off into his hand. Jongup didn’t shift, only letting out a small sigh and relaxing further against him. 

Youngjae could do anything he wanted with Jongup side-lined by this concussion. He stayed still, continuing to brush his fingers through Jongup's hair.

The door opened, and Youngjae recognized Daehyun from his silhouette alone, framed by the brighter lights of the hallway.

He froze in the doorway before stepping in, no doubt surprised by the sight of Jongup laying against Youngjae. As he came closer, he closed the door without a sound.

“Yongguk and Himchan aren’t here?” Daehyun said, his voice soft. Youngjae shook his head.

“I don’t know where they are.”

Daehyun’s eyes flickered between him and Jongup.

“He’s hurt,” Youngjae said, feeling the need to explain himself.

Daehyun snorted. He took a seat, grabbing a glass and one of the bottles on the coffee table to pour himself a drink. “That’s pretty obvious. What happened?”

“Yongguk never told you?” Youngjae furrowed his brow, teeth playing with his lip as he glanced at Daehyun.

“He’s not a big fan of leaving messages.” One side of Daehyun’s mouth twitched up into a wry smile. “Just knew he needed me from the call.”

Youngjae nodded. Daehyun’s eyes slid sideways to look at Jongup; Youngjae realized he’d start running his fingers through Jongup’s hair again. He dropped his hand to the couch.

“It was Sihwan,” Youngjae said. “They have Junhong.” His voice shook as he said aloud. Jongup shifted as though aware of Youngjae talking about it.

Daehyun frowned, holding his glass tighter. He looked at it, swirling the drink around before letting out a heavy sigh. “I should’ve known something like this would happen.” Youngjae stared at him, waiting for him to clarify further. “I thought I fucking recognized that name.”

“What name?”

“One of the dealers on the last hit. Should’ve known, dammit.”

“Why this?” Youngjae asked. “Why didn’t they –?” He cut off, unable to finish. Why didn’t they just kill Junhong and Jongup?

“I’ve gotten almost complete control in our territory,” Daehyun said. He grimaced. “They need a way to gain ground.” Daehyun let out a bitter laugh, loud enough that Youngjae worried it would wake Jongup.

He didn’t move. 

“We’d agree to anything to save Junhong.” Daehyun shook his head, draining his drink and pouring another. “And going through Jongup is one hell of a message.”

“Will you do it?” Youngjae bit his lip. “Give them control?”

“Of course,” Daehyun said. He smiled but didn’t look happy. The strain must be getting to him too, even if he had less of an emotional connection with Jongup. “Anything for Junhong.” Youngjae nodded, unable to respond, and Daehyun’s voice softened. “We’ll get him back.” 

His promise sounded more believable than Yongguk and Himchan’s, but Youngjae trusted him least of everyone. 

Youngjae stayed silent, running his fingers through Jongup’s hair again.

“So what do you think of this place?” Daehyun said. “Know I took you here, but we didn’t want to flaunt you too much. Police look the other way for most things but parading you around here would be a little too far.”

Right. Because he was the only one in the gang who was currently a wanted criminal.

“You own it?” Youngjae asked, and it made sense right as he said it. Of course they owned the club, considering how the bartender treated them. “It’s… nice?”

Daehyun chuckled. “Not the best time to ask, I guess.” His eyes flickered to Jongup and back. “Want to catch dinner tonight?” Daehyun asked. “It’s been a while.”

“Shouldn't you be helping?"

Daehyun raised his eyebrows with the question. “We can’t do anything until they contact us. No point in running around like we’ve lost our heads; it’s all a waiting game.”

“I'm going to stay here.” Youngjae gestured towards Jongup. 

Daehyun sighed. “He’s going to sleep for a while, and we need to talk."

“I don’t want to move him.” Youngjae frowned at Jongup. “He needs rest.”

“He’ll get it. Concussions aren’t fun. Believe me, he'll sleep for a long time.” He stepped closer, leaning in to look at Jongup. “This changes things, Youngjae," Daehyun said, watching him hesitate. "We need to talk." Serious eyes watched him.

“I don't trust you.”

"Good, then we're on the same page," Daehyun said. He scoffed. "Do you know what's going to happen?"

"We'll get Junhong back." Youngjae pretended he didn't have doubts about that.

Daehyun shook his head. "You're naive, babe. Let me help you. We need to talk, final offer."

"No thanks."

Daehyun's face twisted with annoyance, and he grabbed Youngjae's arm, pulling him up from the couch. Youngjae gasped, and he grabbed Jongup, preventing him from hitting the couch too hard. Jongup stirred, letting out a pained groan, but he didn't wake. 

"What the fuck?" Youngjae said, pulling his arm away. 

Daehyun held him tighter, nearly dragging him from the room. "Let me say it differently: we're going to talk. And not here. I don't want to be overheard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always feedback is appreciated! Happy New Year!
> 
> Also a short announcement: I'm traveling for most of January and won't have internet access, so, unfortunately, I won't be able to update. There's a small possibility I'll put up one more chapter before I go, but otherwise, see you in February!


	16. Equal Footing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just remember,” Daehyun said. “Mutualism, both parties benefit. Competition, they lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long break, here it is!

Daehyun kept a bruising grip around Youngjae’s wrist as he pulled him through the club, not looking to either side or back at Youngjae. As they passed the counter, the woman working behind it glanced up then looked down again as she wiped a glass, like they were a passing curiosity but nothing more.

They likely were. If Youngjae had learned anything about Daehyun, it was that he went with the flow, not forcing situations but nudging them in directions he wished. He could convince someone to do something and make them think it had been their idea the entire time.

The pressure circling Youngjae’s wrist was more than a nudge, and maybe that’s why Youngjae stayed silent until they passed the heavy wooden doors.

The bright sun left him blinking and coming to his senses. “What the fuck?” Youngjae said, ripping his hand from Daehyun’s grip. He let go without struggling, now facing Youngjae with worry etched into the lines of his forehead. “What the hell are you doing?” Daehyun looked around, no doubt ensuring his words wouldn’t be overheard, but in such an obvious way it almost looked comical.

“Trust me, you want to hear this.”

Youngjae scoffed, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. “I don’t.”

“I’m not a bad person, Youngjae,” Daehyun said, deep, serious eyes focusing on him with a desperation Youngjae had never seen from him before. “Hear me out. Just give me three minutes, okay? That’s all I need.”

“Could’ve done that inside.”

Daehyun shook his head. “Not in front of Jongup.” He sighed, hands fidgeting against dark jeans. His hair was wet, like he’d rushed here from after a shower, and he’d dressed more haphazardly than usual, messy hair atop a wrinkled black t-shirt. 

Youngjae stared at him, jaw clenched as he waited for Daehyun to speak. He refused to prompt him; if Daehyun didn’t speak soon, he would leave. 

A minute passed, and a car moved down the street, the gust of wind from it fluttering the material of both their shirts.

“What do you think they’ll do to get Junhong back?” Daehyun’s eyes passed Youngjae and focused on the club behind them. His voice pressed Youngjae even without the eye contact, making him frown. He hesitated despite it being an easy question, unsure if there was a trick to it.

But there was only one answer, and as he said it, Daehyun’s reasoning for wanting to talk started to become more clear. “Anything.” 

“Exactly,” Daehyun said, his lips curling into a stressed imitation of a smile. “Which begs the question: are you willing to die for Junhong? Because they’ll want you to, if it comes to that.”

“That won’t happen,” Youngjae said, but his quick answer didn’t even convince him, and Daehyun’s upturned lips transformed into a bitter smile. “They’ll get him back.” His voice only grew weaker as the situation began to sink in.

He’d promised Jongup they’d get Junhong back, but Sihwan and whoever else was involved had gone through both of them without trouble. It wouldn’t be a cakewalk to get them back, and Youngjae knew Jongup, Yongguk, and Himchan would give everything they had to do it.

This could cost all their lives.

Daehyun said nothing, only nodded once when he saw the new creases on Youngjae’s face. He walked to his car, which he’d pulled up alongside the front of the building and pulled a door open. Before he got in, he met Youngjae’s eyes. “Like I said, we need to talk. Get in.”

Youngjae stood frozen to the edge of the curb. Daehyun still stared at him, but Youngjae couldn’t force himself to step towards or away from him. He had to decide right now what to do.

Five minutes ago, he hadn’t planned on listening to anything Daehyun said, but he was right. If Youngjae continued working with the others to get Junhong back, then they’d expect him to do anything to retrieve him.

He liked Junhong well enough; he’d been mostly friendly since the start, but if it came down to life and death, Youngjae wouldn’t choose to save him. It crossed his mind that he sounded callous, thinking about abandoning someone in the protection of his own life. In movies and books, people would call him a coward, self-centered for choosing himself over playing the hero.

He wasn’t a hero, and he’d learned too well in the past months that this situation was real. Youngjae couldn’t expect a fairytale ending, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard because that’s exactly what he’d done. He’d promised Jongup they’d get Junhong back.

They wouldn’t get him back. Not without dying. 

Youngjae still stared at Daehyun, taking in his wide eyes and a nervous restlessness in how he shifted his weight. 

He took a deep breath. Youngjae had always been one to collect all information and then analyze. If he went with Daehyun now, he didn’t need to promise anything. Listening didn’t mean trusting, but it did mean he wouldn’t walk into everything blind to whatever Daehyun planned.

He stepped into Daehyun’s car, seeing Daehyun duck into the driver’s seat as he opened the door. Both sat without a word, a palpable uncertainty between them which only made the spotless car feel more foreign to Youngjae. Daehyun started it, and a low rumble filled the background of their silence.

The bright sun glinted off the windshield and into both their eyes. Daehyun turned the flap down at the top of the car so he could see better, but Youngjae kept his hands folded in his lap. After only ten minutes, he turned into an empty parking lot and stopped the car. 

Youngjae had predicted another restaurant, but Daehyun made no move to leave the car.

He turned to face him, the bright light showing every imperfection on his face. A faded scar stretched across his neck, made by something blunt but barely visible after years. “You have the wrong idea about me.”

Of all the beginnings Youngjae expected, this wasn’t it. “We’re not here to talk about what I think of you.”

“Maybe not, but you need to believe me.”

“If it makes sense, I’ll believe it.”

Daehyun sighed. “Of course.” He ran a hand through his drying hair before wiping it on his pants. “Remember when we first talked?” Youngjae stared at him, not responding. “Right.” He paused again, thinking his words through. “I told you about distancing yourself from this. Said Jongup and Yongguk and the others don’t.”

“I remember.” Youngjae didn’t know where Daehyun planned to take this. His hands fiddled unconsciously with the upholstery of the seat below him. When he noticed the movement, he stopped them and moved them into his lap again.

“Distance’s so important because if you don’t have it, then all you have is this. All Jongup and Yongguk have is this, and Himchan and Junhong aren’t far behind.”

Youngjae stayed silent, watching him. A gleam of sweat had appeared on his forehead from the warming car, heating as it sat in the fall sun.

“If they have nothing, they’ll all die for this. You saw Yongguk the other day. We’re not like that.” Daehyun’s eyes were earnest, pleading with him to understand. It would’ve worked if Youngjae didn’t recall other times where he’d done damn near the same thing.

“I don’t do anything other than this,” Youngjae said. “I don’t even have an apartment.”

Daehyun shook his head, calling his bluff. “You want to get out of this. Just right now you can’t. I know, believe me.”

“Nothing’s holding you here.”

Daehyun sighed, looking away. The muscles of his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. “I’m asking you to trust me, so I’ll trust you.” He didn’t sound happy about it. “Hana’s in grad school at the university.” Intense eyes pinned Youngjae like a fly stuck to a board. “We can’t leave this area until she graduates, and I can’t leave without Jongup coming to kill us both.”

“Your girlfriend?” Youngjae’s volume increased with incredulity, and he almost expected Daehyun to shush him from how he glanced around as though they weren’t alone in a closed car. 

He stared at Youngjae. A horn honked in the distance and a flock of pigeons fluttered by, landing at the mouth of the parking lot.

“You care about her that much?”

Daehyun almost looked offended, his eyes narrowing and his mouth becoming a thin line. “Of course I do. I’d do anything for her.”

“You cheated on her.” It was a valid concern, how Daehyun had slept with Youngjae considering all he’d said about Hana, but Youngjae couldn’t help but think it sounded juvenile to mention it like that.

To his shock, Daehyun laughed, a short bark of shock more than real amusement. “You think that?”

“I – what? You slept with me.” His voice sounded a mix between unsure and accusing, not his best moment.

“Youngjae.” Daehyun paused after his name, condescending in a way which made Youngjae clench his jaw. “You don’t know anything about our relationship.”

Anger jumped up in him, clawing its way into his throat. “I know you’re not loyal to her.” He narrowed his eyes. “Bet you use her like you –”

“I’d die for her.” Daehyun stared at him, all serious eyes and a grim, hollow face.

“So what?” Youngjae said, burying surprise under a quick, harsh response.

“I’m the best dealer here by far,” he said, throwing Youngjae for a loop with the changed subject. “Better than Jongup, and even he kept Sihwan out well enough when he ran everything. But he’s tricky.” Daehyun paused. “Last time, he fucked with Jongup by taking Junhong, but it didn’t work. I wasn’t about to let him take Hana.”

Youngjae scoffed, loud enough to make Daehyun flinch. “Are you kidding me? Did you really just say you sleep with people to keep her safe?”

“No.” Daehyun’s response was sharp but controlled as he held anger close. “I do my best to make it seem like she doesn’t matter to me, like she’s not worth the trouble of kidnapping.”

“So if they’d taken Hana instead of Junhong?”

Daehyun paused, and though his face never changed, his chest moved faster as he took quick breaths to calm down. For the first time in a long while, Youngjae wondered if he really did care about this girl. “Then I’d die to get her back.”

Youngjae should’ve predicted the answer, but his own surprise shocked him. Seeing Daehyun’s dark eyes promise to die for someone he loved wasn’t something Youngjae ever expected to happen tonight.

“Maybe what you need, more than space, is a line,” Daehyun said, reaching down to open the compartment in front of his seat. “Find it, know it, and never cross it.” He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from it and reclosed it. “I’d never forgive myself if she got hurt.” Lighting the cigarette, he rolled open a window enough to release the smoke as he breathed it in to relax. “But I’m careful,” he said. “Doubt they even know about her. She’s not a part of this, and I’ll never let that change.”

“Does she know about this?”

“Of course,” Daehyun said. A wry smile grew on his face. “Did you think I lied to her?”

“I – never thought about it,” Youngjae said, fumbling with his hands as he admitted it. “She’s okay with it?”

“Eh,” Daehyun said. “Wishes I’d be safer, of course. And definitely not happy with Jongup around me.”

“Jongup?”

Daehyun chuckled. “Just because he’s softened up around you doesn’t mean he’s jumping to befriend me.” He shook his head. “Jongup’s dangerous. He –“ Daehyun broke off and sighed, pausing to think through his words. “Be careful around Jongup. Especially now. He’ll go straight through anyone to get to Junhong.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“As long as you aren’t in his way.” Daehyun’s voice sounded dry, and he grimaced. “It’ll be worse with the concussion. He’ll be on all our asses.”

“He’s worried,” Youngjae said. “It’s _Junhong.”_ Daehyun gave him a short appraising look, his expression something dark which Youngjae couldn’t identify.

“That’s one thing,” Daehyun said. “Worried is fine. Hell, I’m worried. Jongup’s obsessive.”

Youngjae fought back rising indignation over how Daehyun spoke about Jongup. “You’d be the same if they took Hana.”

Daehyun’s jaw clenched again. “Stop talking about her,” he said, the words sharp and his gaze fiery before he looked away and deflated, his shoulders slumping. “It won’t ever happen. She won’t get hurt.” He paused again before meeting Youngjae’s eyes, his composure regained and his voice strong again. “And no, I’d be different because I wouldn’t drag other people into it.”

“Why are you so convinced they’ll die?”

“Why do you think they won’t?” Daehyun countered. His cigarette dripped ash out the window. He took another drag and expelled smoke.

Youngjae hadn’t expected the question. “Jongup knows what he’s doing.”

“You weren’t here for the last time this happened. Jongup rushes into things. Lucky he didn’t get him and Junhong killed two years ago.”

“What happened?” Youngjae asked. “I know Junhong left, but that’s about it.”

Daehyun didn’t respond for so long Youngjae expected him to ignore the question. “I don’t know the whole story,” he said slowly. “I’d only been there a month. They told me nothing of Junhong until I met him after, but from what I know, Jongup saw them, rushed in, and Sihwan nearly killed Junhong that night.

“Obviously, Junhong’s whole buddy-buddy thing with Sihwan ended there, and he came back.” Daehyun looked down at his hands. Unlike Yongguk and Jongup’s, his had few scars on them, and those Youngjae could see were faded, as though from a long time ago.

“They just – took Junhong back after that?”

Daehyun shrugged. “Guess so,” he said. “Never asked me about it.” His voice grew less flippant as he continued. “Glad they did.” He continued to look down. “I know what I sound like, coming here and talking realistically about this whole thing, but Junhong’s a good kid. Sweet. Of everyone – well, I wish it wasn’t him, let’s just say that.”

“You barely talk to him,” Youngjae said, unsure what to think about what Daehyun admitted.

“That you’ve seen,” Daehyun said. “I had a problem pop up about a year ago, and he and I worked it out together. He’s bright. Got an interesting way of looking at the world too. I know he tended to come to me when he wanted to piss Jongup off, but I didn’t mind.” He shook his head and snorted. “Look at me rambling. To be succinct, I’d say Junhong’s close to family for me.”

“What happened to everyone being colleagues at best? That’s one of the first things you told me.”

Daehyun stopped again to breathe smoke once more. The smell burned Youngjae’s nose. “The others are – I want no part of Himchan’s happy family façade – but Junhong’s different. He’s just – like that, if you get to know him. Sihwan knows it too, knew he’d do the most damage taking him. That’s why he didn’t bother with Jongup.”

“You make him sound very calculating,” Youngjae said. “Sihwan.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Daehyun said. “It’s easy to – he looks like a gust of wind could blow him over – but he’s fucking proven he knows his shit enough in the past.”

“So what do we do?”

“Who do you trust the most here?” Daehyun asked, ignoring Youngjae’s question. “Jongup, considering you were cuddling earlier?”

Youngjae stopped and thought about it, ignoring Daehyun’s jab. Yongguk was a definite no; if anything, Youngjae had only learned more and more that he was unpredictable and flighty. Jongup – Youngjae wanted to say him, but Jongup was just as unstable as Yongguk.

It would be stupid to trust Jongup when he would think nothing of killing Youngjae if it came to it, and Youngjae had no doubt in his mind Jongup wouldn’t hesitate if it meant possibly getting Junhong back.

So that left Himchan, who remained shrouded in a bit of mystery for Youngjae. He didn’t know much about Himchan, past how he cared about the others.

Youngjae wished he would have listened to Himchan the other day, when he’d stopped Youngjae to tell him something.

“Himchan,” he said. “I don’t trust any of them but Himchan the most.”

“Same,” Daehyun said. “Mostly. Himchan wants to think we’re all a big family, and it makes him ignore a lot of shit that goes on. But he’s better than Yongguk and certainly more stable than Jongup.”

“Why did you ask that?” Youngjae said, needing to know why Daehyun had pressed him.

Daehyun sighed, fiddling with the volume of the radio, even though it wasn’t on. “They’ll do anything to get Junhong back. At least, Yongguk and Jongup would. I think that’s a bad plan.”

“You think they should abandon him?” Youngjae said. “But you said –”

“No!” Daehyun said, his voice sharpening. He lowered it after, glancing around as though people were watching. “I think we need to be careful, and they won’t. Himchan would be, but he never fucking learned to say no to Yongguk.”

“You think it’s a trap?” Youngjae said.

“It’s a fucking power game, that’s what it is. Listen, Youngjae. They wouldn’t take Junhong unless they had a plan. And that plan involves getting power from us.”

“So what?” Youngjae said. “What do we do?”

“We stay sane,” Daehyun said. “They won’t tell me all the plans – Jongup won’t let them. You need to keep me in the loop.”

As he finished speaking, Daehyun’s reasons for pulling him aside and telling him all this became clear. Daehyun needed information. Jongup wouldn’t talk to him about their plans, but he would talk to Youngjae. `

Daehyun needed him as an ally, or else he’d go in blind. 

“What will you do with them?” Youngjae asked, unsure. 

Daehyun stared out the windshield of the car. “I don’t know yet. Depends on the plans.”

“That’s not good enough. I don’t trust you, and you used me before.”

“It depends on if the plans make sense or not. If they do, then I’ll do nothing but get Junhong back.”

Youngjae nodded. “Say we find out they’re about to go on a suicide mission. Then what?”

“We sit down and talk.” Daehyun shrugged. “Make our next plan. At least we’ll know before we walk into it and get to make a choice.” 

Youngjae nodded, swallowing hard as he considered Daehyun’s proposal. “No games,” he said. “You won’t lie to me during this. Or withhold anything.”

“I’m not some enemy,” he said. “I’m on your side, Youngjae. I still think we’re similar people. You and I – we’re both going to make it out of this alive.” Daehyun turned to look at him again, gaze hot and intense on Youngjae’s face. “I promise I’ll get you through this alive.”

“You don’t care about me.” Youngjae’s eyes were strong against Daehyun’s face, matching his own force. “Why say that?”

Daehyun paused, his eyes breaking their stare as he looked out the windshield again. “You have me in a hard place. If you don’t help, I go in blind, and you’re too smart to help if you think I’m playing a game with you.”

Youngjae nodded, agreeing with the assessment.

“So this is me, no games, no tricks. All I want is for us to make it through this alive.”

He said nothing in response, watching Daehyun stare out the windshield. He sat straight in his seat, resting one hand on the wheel. “I don’t trust you,” Youngjae said, finally.

“I know, and I don’t blame you,” Daehyun said. “But we need to work together here. You don’t know enough about Sihwan to stay alive on your own.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Youngjae echoed, surprised by the easy acceptance. 

Daehyun nodded. “This is on your terms, Youngjae. I’m not here to force you to do what I want.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then you don’t,” he said. “I’m in a corner here. Only other solution is having Hana drop out and leave, but that’s a last resort. So I have to go with you. And I’m hoping to work together, not fight, so I’m playing your game.

“Just remember,” Daehyun continued. “Mutualism, both parties benefit. Competition, they lose.”

“I’ll think about it,” Youngjae said, still unwilling to commit to anything, even with how much sense Daehyun’s words made. 

Daehyun nodded. He hesitated before speaking, licking his lips to moisten them first. “Trusted you a lot today. I hope you realize that. No one knows about Hana, but now you do.”

“Why would you tell me? You want to keep her out of it.”

“Because now we’re equals.”

Youngjae’s brow furrowed as Daehyun spoke. “What?”

Daehyun’s hand tightened around the steering wheel. “Before, you knew nothing, and I did. So I had power over you, and that’s why shit happened.” He waited for Youngjae to nod before continuing, “Now it’s different. You could fuck me over real good now.”

“You put trust in me because you want me to put trust in you,” Youngjae said, the answer dawning to him almost right as he said it. 

“Not trust,” Daehyun said, shaking his head. “I don’t trust you to not make my life a lot harder. But – yes, in a sense. I evened out the playing field because we’re on the same team.”

“It sounds like you had this planned.”

“I did,” Daehyun admitted. “I thought something would happen with Sihwan around. Didn’t know what, but I knew I wanted you on my side when it did.”

Youngjae frowned. “I’m not on your side.”

“Not yet,” Daehyun agreed. “But we’re working together.” A red sports car pulled into the parking lot near them, and Daehyun turned to look at its driver. “I just wish it wasn’t Junhong. I didn’t expect this.”

Youngjae shrugged, not knowing how to answer. He and Junhong had never spoken much. His most memorable moment with him was hearing his and Jongup’s argument. 

A woman got out of the car, and Daehyun watched her walk across the lot and go into a nearby laundromat before relaxing again. He stabbed out his cigarette, flicked it out the window, and closed it the rest of the way. The car still smelled of smoke, the first personal touch of Daehyun’s Youngjae had ever noticed in it.

“He’s so fucking young.” The sudden anger almost made Youngjae jump. “Last time – he was sixteen last time, and Sihwan had him dealing cause he’s got that fucking babyface no one can say no to. Now he’s nineteen and without a miracle, he’s dead.

“And I don’t believe in miracles,” Daehyun finished, shaking his head. “I have no idea how we’ll get him. Don’t think we will.”

“We’ll try,” Youngjae said. “We have to.” It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had.

Daehyun smiled at him. “You’re cute. I know I said you’re naïve before, but I’m glad you still have hope.”

Youngjae stiffened. “Last time you said that then used me.”

“And this time I’m thanking you for it,” Daehyun said. “It’s hard to hope sometimes.” He watched out the window. “Gonna rain soon. Want to go get lunch?”

Youngjae had gone with him planning to refuse to listen to anything he said, and he still didn’t trust Daehyun – not even close. But things had changed today. “Okay.”

Daehyun’s smile grew further, but there was pain behind it, which Daehyun tried to squash. “Good.” He paused, the smile falling from his face as he started to drive again. He glanced at Youngjae as he turned from the parking lot. “You’re another one who’s more than just a coworker,” he said. “Maybe you’ll even end up like family too.”

Youngjae said nothing, not understanding where this Daehyun had come from. He’d acted different than their past meetings, and Youngjae couldn’t decide whether he seemed more real or if he’d faked it all.

It felt real, but Youngjae trusted his intuition about as much as he trusted Daehyun.

“What’s going to happen now?” Youngjae asked, ignoring his last comment.

Daehyun sighed. “It’s a waiting game,” he said. “Sihwan’ll contact us soon.”

“And when he does?”

“I’m hoping you’ll tell me about it,” he said. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's curious, my trip was amazing in every way, and I'll prob talk about it soon on tumblr :)


	17. By the Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to help you, Jongup,” Youngjae said, slumping his shoulders. “Tell me how I can help you.”
> 
> “You can’t. You’re barely a part of this, training you is a waste of time, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“Sit down, Jongup.” Himchan reached out and laid a light hand on Jongup’s shoulder as he spoke. Whether meant as mental comfort or physical restraint, he needed it as sweat ran down his too-pale, sickly face. He’d refused to take ibuprofen for his headache.

After, Jongup had said. He’d take care of himself after they got Junhong back.

Himchan hadn’t been happy with that answer, and it sank Youngjae’s heart, then ripped it to pieces. 

They weren’t going to get Junhong back. 

Jongup shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead from the motion. He stepped away, wanting to show independence but needing to rest a hand on the table for support. Youngjae could hardly watch; he’d seemed better today, but two hours into a harsh discussion about where to go from here, and Jongup’s progress evaporated into thin air.

He shouldn’t strain himself like this, not when he clearly suffered from a concussion, not only a week after what happened.

Youngjae mentally snorted. Only a week. Days stretched into tiny forevers with Junhong gone. It seemed like the time before his disappearance traveled far into the past, something fit for history books, not easy recollections because they just fucking happened. 

No one spoke as Himchan pursued Jongup, finally wrapping a hand around his waist and pulling him back into a pseudo-embrace. He struggled, but the hard lines in his face softened, and he closed his eyes as Himchan guided him back into a seat. Maybe he did know his own limitations; he just couldn’t make himself stop, not when he had an obligation to Junhong.

Himchan sat next to him, and he left his arm around Jongup’s back, his worried eyes watching as his head dropped forward into his hands.

Jongup raised it again, looking around the table. His eyes slid across Youngjae’s. “Why isn’t anyone saying anything?” His voice shook. “We need to plan.”

“Jongup.” Himchan, again. His voice sounded soft and calming, no doubt trying to comfort him. “Why don’t you go lay down?”

“No,” he said. “Fuck no.” Jongup shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Jongup –” Now Yongguk stepped in, finally raising his eyes off his lighter.

“No!” Jongup raised his voice, and it cracked, betraying him. “They have Junhong, and we aren’t fucking doing anything.”

“We can’t do anything until they contact us,” Himchan said. “You know that.”

“We should be looking for them.”

“Daehyun’s checking with his contacts,” Yongguk said, reminding them. 

Jongup stiffened further at the mention of Daehyun, which Youngjae found understandable. He'd been even worse this past week, in and out and never clear about where he'd been.

An unkind thought – and an unwarranted one. =Daehyun had dedicated the past several days to rolling through contacts and searching for Junhong. Or at least – he’d told Youngjae he was.

No luck yet, but Youngjae also didn't doubt him too much. He'd grown more and more worried about Junhong as time passed, something Youngjae saw reflected in all of the others.

“We should go to fifth,” Jongup said. “We should fucking go find one of their dealers and beat it out of them.”

“We can’t risk it,” Yongguk said, his voice sharpening. “What if they hurt Junhong because of it?” Yongguk knew how to play this game. Jongup would follow any order he gave if he could convince him they were in Junhong’s best interest.

 

“They know they’ve got us where they want us,” Himchan said, his serious voice speaking with a matter-of-fact tone, despite how he looked more frazzled than Youngjae had ever seen him. “We’ll hear from them soon.” Youngjae had watched him drain an entire pot of coffee within an hour only to make another, which he now drank.

Himchan showed emotion in funny ways. His eyes looked cold as always, even worse without Junhong to soften them. But his jaw trembled, his voice sounded hoarse, and he consumed coffee as though only it could give his life.

Youngjae had told Daehyun he trusted Himchan the most, using more process of elimination than real belief. He didn’t regret that choice. Himchan had a good head on his shoulders, despite the distance they’d maintained between him and Youngjae.

Jongup’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded. “You’re right.” His hands rose up to grip the table, and he looked down at them. “Then what? What do we do?” Youngjae wasn’t the only one who relied on Himchan for logic. 

Himchan sighed. “Not too much now.” Jongup stared at him for another beat, not speaking but then moving his eyes to look at the others around the table. With only four of them there, it was all too clear people were missing.

Using the table as a prop, Jongup pushed himself to his feet. He waved his free hand at Himchan to stop him from also standing. His eyes locked on Youngjae. “Come with me. Now.” Youngjae’s eyes widened, not expecting the direct address, staring at Jongup before he finally scrambled to his feet to follow.

Daehyun’s words about Jongup being dangerous, about being careful around him flashed through Youngjae’s mind, but he shook them away. No matter what, he still didn’t trust Daehyun. He'd decide later about Jongup.

“Jongup!” He paused at his name, resting an arm against the door frame to look back at Himchan. “Don’t drive like that.” Himchan’s voice softened as he spoke. Jongup stared at him for a long pause before finally nodding.

“Of course not, hyung.” 

Himchan froze, and Jongup’s eyes dropped. Youngjae looked in-between them, surprise and confusion bright in his eyes before he registered what had sounded strange.

He’d grown used to the lack of honorifics here, and yet he’d just heard Jongup use one. Himchan’s eyes flickered back to the table, as though to check who all was there. He looked back at Jongup and his throat worked as he swallowed.

“Been a long time since you called me that,” he said. His words were the only thing that appeared casual from how stiff both Himchan and Jongup had become.

“It’s been a long time since there’s only been three of us.”

Youngjae shifted, taking a step back from the doorway as he registered Jongup’s words. Clearly, Jongup meant Himchan, Yongguk and him. Youngjae shifted his weight foot to foot, awkward as he tried to keep to the background.

For a long pause, the three of them stared at each other. Youngjae didn’t understand how they’d come to this strange agreement, where Yongguk and Himchan acted as co-leaders, with Jongup somewhere under them but also respected.

It didn’t matter how it started; all that mattered was that Youngjae had no doubt the three trusted each other. Sure, Youngjae had seen their small discrepancies, but those weren’t important. Not now, with crisis resting heavy over them, a suffocating blanket fighting them every second.

Youngjae almost wished he could be part of it. But he’d chosen Daehyun, or at least, he’d admitted he didn’t trust any of them unconditionally.

What kind of person was he, if he cared more about his own interests than anyone else’s? Why didn’t he know how to be any other type than that?

Jongup broke their eye contact, turning to stare at Youngjae. His lips twitched down as his eyebrows came together. Youngjae wondered how much of his confusion made its way onto his face, what had caught Jongup’s eye. “C’mon,” Jongup said. “We have a lot to do.”

And with that, he turned and left Yongguk and Himchan sitting in the room, staring after him. Youngjae hesitated, glancing back at them before following. His hand dropped to the gun he now carried. It had become more natural, he realized. 

Sometimes he even forgot about it. Youngjae followed Jongup, jogging to catch up with him. He walked fast, a little shakier than normal but managing okay. The last week had done him good. 

“I’m not letting you fuck this up,” Jongup said. “We need everyone we’ve got for this.”

Youngjae nodded. “I’ll do my best,” he said. Only if it made sense. Conditions, conditions. He never escaped them.

“They’ll kill you,” Jongup said. “Fucking go right through you.” His steps faltered, and his voice lost its harsh edge. “No.”

“What?”

“You’re going to get hurt,” Jongup repeated, pausing and turning towards Youngjae, only to avoid his eyes. He pushed open the heavy door to the warehouse and moved inside. Youngjae followed.

They took their normal positions, and Youngjae raised his gun, firing at the target. No one spoke, and the bang of the gun echoed in his ears.

He’d begun counting shots, and he’d gotten to six before he managed to hit the middle of the target. Youngjae couldn’t help the small whoop of celebration he made at his success.

“Good,” Jongup said, his voice shaking on the single syllable. He stood next to Youngjae, and only now did Youngjae look towards him again. It became immediately clear something was wrong with him. Jongup swayed on his feet, pressing a hand against a pillar to keep himself upright. 

He went to meet Youngjae’s eyes, only to wince and drop his gaze. 

“You should sit down,” Youngjae said. “You can still watch.” His ears rang from the shots; no wonder Jongup had gotten worse, they couldn’t be good for him.

“Shoot,” Jongup said, nodding at the target as though Youngjae hadn’t spoken.

“But –” 

Jongup motioned towards the targets. Youngjae turned back, raising the gun again. “These targets aren’t moving,” he said. “That’ll make it harder. But you’re doing better at this.” His hand squeezed at his temple as he spoke.

Youngjae’s bullet hit the center of a target again.

He nodded, stealing a glance at Jongup, who’d paled further. Sweat ran down his face, and he’d clenched his free hand into a loose fist. “I want to help you,” Youngjae said, admitting it with a grim smile. “I want to help get Junhong back.” He wasn’t lying.

Youngjae wanted to help, it just also depended on other circumstances.

Jongup sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not going to be easy,” he said. “Unless we give in to whatever they want.”

“But we’ll get him back,” Youngjae said. Jongup went still.

“I’m fucking useless,” he said. “Junhong’s gone, and I can’t fucking think past this headache.”

“You’re concussed. It’ll get better.” Youngjae knew nothing about concussions, but he figured that’s how it worked. Jongup sighed, shaking his head.

“Too late,” he said. “Junhong’s gone, and I can’t do anything.”

“You can do a lot,” Youngjae said. “You just need to rest too.”

“There’s no time.” Jongup brought a hand up to fist his hair in it. He pulled, no doubt sending pain ricocheting through him, even if he didn’t react to it. “They’re going to kill him. If we don’t do what they say, they’re gonna kill him.”

“It’s okay,” Youngjae said. “Whatever they want – we can do it.”

Jongup met Youngjae’s eyes, his hand still locked in his hair. “I can’t – stop working on this,” he said. “Junhong can’t die.”

“He won’t,” Youngjae said. “But you need to sit down.” Jongup looked closer and closer to falling with each passing minute, his hand clenched against the pole and standing out of sheer determination. 

He shook his head, refusing. “Shoot,” he said, pointing towards the targets with a shaky hand. Youngjae froze, biting his lip before shaking his head.

“Not until you sit down.”

Jongup growled, something Youngjae would have found intimidating not long ago. He could now hear the desperation in it. 

“We’ll get him back,” Youngjae said. He took a step closer to Jongup. “You were wrong,” he said. “When you said it’s only the three of you. I’m here to help any way I can.” Youngjae took another step closer. Conditionally, he meant.

He reached out to Jongup, who stiffened as he wrapped an arm around his back. Youngjae attempted to maneuver him to the ground, but Jongup shoved him away, and he didn’t push it, worried Jongup would hurt himself more in the process. 

His breathing grew heavier as he stared at Youngjae, both fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw tight as they locked eyes.

“Junhong’s fucking out there, right now.” Jongup gestured with his hands, nearly setting himself off balance. “I can’t be – broken – right now.”

“You won’t get better if you don’t rest,” Youngjae said, arguing with him and stepping closer to try and force him to sit.

Jongup moved away. “Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice low. It rose, cracking as he now yelled. “Don’t touch me!” Youngjae slowed his movement but didn’t stop, his hands up as though Jongup were a terrified animal, not a person Youngjae had come to respect.

Jongup let him get within arm’s reach before he moved again, lunging towards Youngjae and grabbing him by the throat. Youngjae choked, loud and somehow surprised as Jongup cut off most of the air from his lungs. The force of Jongup’s lunge had Youngjae reeling back into the pillar behind them, cracking his head against it.

Youngjae reacted, his hands locking onto Jongup’s to yank them off him and kneeing him in the gut.

His knee forced Jongup backward, the air rushing from his lungs with a startled gasp. He stumbled, losing his balance and falling, where he sat on the ground gasping for breath. To Youngjae’s surprise, Jongup stayed down, curling in on himself and groaning, cementing Youngjae’s belief that Jongup’s condition was poorer than he tried to play it off as.

Youngjae stood against the pillar, breathing heavy and bringing one of his own hands to cover his throat, hoping to alleviate the burn from it. His breaths came out as small wheezes, and his chest heaved until he started coughing.

Jongup stayed on the ground, one hand raised to his head but hesitant, as though loathe to touch where it hurt. 

Youngjae moved to crouch a reasonable distance in front of him, now warier of him. He’d almost forgotten Jongup was dangerous. “What was that for?” he asked, sharper than he’d intended – which was understandable, his throat fucking hurt and his voice came out rougher than usual. Youngjae suppressed a cough.

Jongup said nothing, and Youngjae’s anger fizzled stronger. 

Then, just like that, it disappeared, and Youngjae saw the distress evident in Jongup’s shaking shoulders. How many times had Jongup said he’d protect Junhong? He’d failed to, and he’d lost Junhong – again.

Everyone needed a line and to never cross it. Jongup needed his back because he’d lost it.

“I want to help you, Jongup,” Youngjae said, slumping his shoulders. “Tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t. You’re barely a part of this, training you is a waste of time, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.” He’d gone from burning hot to cold, now near monotone and not looking at Youngjae.

“That’s not true.” Youngjae’s heart pounded in his chest, though he didn’t know why.

For a long time, Jongup didn’t speak. Youngjae could see the tick in his jaw as he moved it, and his own annoyance with Jongup mounted again as more time passed. His anger may make sense, but that didn’t make it helpful.

Finally, Jongup spoke. “Your aim’s better,” he said, his voice quiet. “And you’ve got the technique down. But shooting moving things is harder.”

“Then what do I do?” Youngjae asked. “I need to learn how to do that.”

“Why are you so willing to help?” Jongup’s voice had sharpened. “Why are you doing this?” His eyes were accusing, tearing into Youngjae. “You’re wasting my time.”

Youngjae sighed. “I need to do something,” he said, refraining from showing his annoyance in a way which would antagonize Jongup. “Junhong needs us.”

“You don’t care about him,” Jongup said, eyes wide and wild as he shook his head so hard it had to worsen his headache. “You don’t care about any of us.”

Youngjae shook his head, dropping his eyes. “I –” He did care; he didn't want Junhong to die.

“You’re using us,” Jongup said, continuing as though Youngjae hadn’t begun to respond. “You’re using us.” Youngjae didn’t know how he’d possibly use them in his situation, trapped in his situation.

“I’m not,” Youngjae said. “I – don’t trust all of you yet, but I’m not using you.” Jongup stared at him, not speaking until Youngjae shifted foot to foot, nervous. 

He sighed. “I’m more worried about your defense than your aim,” he said. It took Youngjae a second to follow the sudden change, but he accepted it, figuring it meant Jongup had accepted his help. “Guns only do so much. Sometimes a crowbar can do a helluva lot more.”

Youngjae frowned, hoping he wouldn’t insist on trying to fight him. He’d thrown Jongup down with ease only a couple minutes ago. There wasn’t a point to it now, and it would only hurt Jongup more. “Is that what happened to you?” 

He grimaced, answering without words.

“How do you get better?” Youngjae asked, not wanting to press any further.

“Practice,” Jongup said. “But I can’t help you, and we need to find Junhong.” 

Youngjae nodded. “What do I do, then?”

Jongup paused. He made as though to stand, then met Youngjae’s eyes and settled back again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. Jongup banged a fist off the ground, hard enough to make Youngjae wince. “Fuck, I’m so useless.”

“Hey,” Youngjae said, stepping closer and crouching in front of Jongup again. “You’re not useless.” Jongup met his eyes, biting at his lip and watching Youngjae.

They stared at each other for a minute before Jongup shifted, sliding over and tapping the ground next to him. His eyes flitted away from Youngjae and to his hand, then back to his eyes. Youngjae took the invitation, turning to sit next to Jongup and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“How bad is your head?” Youngjae asked, stealing a glance at where he knew the wound was. It didn’t look bad with Jongup’s hair covering it. Jongup shrugged.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve felt,” he said. “It just – makes it hard to think. Pain’s not bad; I just – can’t. If I try too hard I get sick.”

Youngjae nodded. “If there’s anything I can do,” he said, not sure what else to say. 

Jongup huffed, amused. “I don’t think you can help,” he said, without even a sign of a smile, despite his earlier laughter. “I need someone to turn back time for me, that’s what I need.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Youngjae said. “Junhong being taken. They planned it out.”

“We don’t know that,” Jongup said, but Youngjae shook his head, disagreeing.

“If we know anything, it’s that,” he said. “Why else would this happen?”

Jongup sighed, pulling his knees in and resting his head on them. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice cracked, and Youngjae pretended he didn’t hear it. “What are they doing to him?” Youngjae had no answer for him, but he didn’t look for one, instead continuing. “If it’s for control, then they would have contacted us,” Jongup said. His arms tightened around his knees. “So why do they have him?”

“They may still contact us,” Youngjae said. “And if they don’t, then maybe we will go try and find them.” Jongup lifted his head.

“That’s a stupid idea,” he said. “It would never work.”

“Don’t forget you have me,” Youngjae said. He tapped his fingers against the ground. “I can’t guarantee, but if there were cameras you needed me to hack, I could do it.”

Jongup’s eyes widened. “Right,” he said, and Youngjae tried to smile at him, glad he’d reminded Jongup that he could help somehow. “We could try and find where they have him.”

Youngjae nodded. “Plus if you need someone to look around, they won’t know me.” He thought Jongup would agree with that immediately, but instead, Jongup frowned, shaking his head.

“They’ve been watching us. They knew when to go for Junhong and me. We can’t guarantee they don’t know you.”

Youngjae nodded. It made sense, but he still couldn’t help a little surprise that Jongup cared about him enough to avoid risking him, even for Junhong.

Maybe Daehyun had been wrong, and they didn’t need to fear Jongup and the others risking their lives for Junhong.

Youngjae sighed, taking a deep breath. “You just talked about me like I wasn’t a part of this,” he said. Jongup’s eyes fell off him, focusing on the ground again. “But you’re also not willing to risk me to save Junhong? I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jongup said.

“What?” 

“Make your voice like that,” he said. “Anytime you ask me something, your voice goes all soft. You don’t have to do that.”

Youngjae’s eyes widened as Jongup called him out for it. Jongup’s tired eyes grew amused at the look on his face.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” he said. “I’m not stupid.”

“I think that's pretty normal,” Youngjae said. "I think everyone does it when they talk about things like this."

"I don't."

Youngjae looked at him. "You do sometimes," he said.

"I just attacked you."

"Doesn't mean things haven't changed."

“I don’t know if they have changed,” Jongup said. “I don’t trust you.”

“They have,” Youngjae said. “Maybe not completely.”

Jongup sighed and nodded. “I guess so.” He laid a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder and used him to stand. Youngjae popped to his feet as soon as he knew the motion wouldn’t make Jongup fall. His hand still clutched Youngjae’s shoulder, no doubt waiting until dizziness faded. 

“You should stay sitting,” Youngjae said, frowning.

Jongup shook his head and chuckled. “I’m just going back to talk to Yongguk and Himchan.” His eyes met Youngjae’s for a long pause. “You should come,” he said. “It’s about time we included you in our plans.”

An uneasy, sick feeling rose in Youngjae’s stomach. Daehyun had said Jongup would share more information with him than they did with Daehyun, and now it seemed it would happen. He followed Jongup as he walked away, staying close so Jongup could grab him in case of a dizzy spell. 

Youngjae blinked in the bright sunlight, grimacing at Jongup as he groaned, dropping his eyes to avoid the light. He kept his eyes on the ground, but he shrugged Youngjae’s hand off his shoulder, refusing help. 

“You’re okay,” Youngjae said. “We’re almost there.”

“I’m not a child,” Jongup said, his voice gruff. Youngjae chuckled but broke off as he caught sight of a lanky, long-haired man walking towards them, his eyes focused on Jongup, who still looked down and didn’t notice. Unsure, Youngjae paused, torn between warning Jongup and hoping the man walked by them, that he only looked because of Jongup’s condition and not for any other reason. 

Another man, this one built heavier but shorter, emerged from the alley, with his gun already raised and focused on them. 

“Jongup!” Youngjae said, freezing as they got closer, his eyes moving between them. Jongup looked the rest of the way up and immediately his gun was in hand. Youngjae echoed the movement a second too slow, still awkward with his weapon. He clicked the safety off, and it sounded loud even above the background noise of the city around them.

“Don’t,” the shorter man, a man with a buzz-cut and broad shoulders, said. He focused his gun on Jongup. “I’ll shoot.”

Jongup didn’t move, stilling with his gun pointed at the man. “What do you want?” His voice had hardened.

“God, Minhyuk got you good.” The tall man shook his head, grinning and making a strand of his long hair fall from his low ponytail. “Said he did, but I didn’t think you’d still be this out of it.” He turned, moving his gun so it pointed at Youngjae, whose gun also pointed back at him.

He wondered if he looked as awkward as he felt. Hopefully not. 

“And then there’s you. Got a pretty famous face there, Youngjae.” Of-fucking-course they knew of him already.

The near bald man snorted. “Bit of an underestimate,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re outside at all, considering. Not that the police come here all that often.”

“What do you want?” Jongup said, growling the words. “Where’s Junhong?”

“Oh, Junhong? Right, we’re supposed to leave a message for you.” The tall man’s casual words didn’t fit the stress of a gun pointing at him.

Jongup said nothing, waiting for him to continue speaking. Youngjae could feel Jongup trembling, though whether from fear and adrenaline or from his head, he didn’t know.

“Don’t you want to know it?” He said. “You didn’t ask.”

“What is it?” Youngjae said, not wanting them to continue to taunt Jongup. The tall man’s eyes flickered to him before looking back at Jongup. He paused, meeting Jongup’s dark eyes before finally answering.

“We’ll give him back,” he said, shrugging. “We don’t want him.”

“What?” Jongup took a step towards him, but a flick of his gun stopped him. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. We made our point.” When Jongup and Youngjae only stared at him, he laughed again, this time louder. “If we wanted to kill any of you, we can. You aren’t safe from us. You can’t protect anyone, Yongguk can’t protect anyone, and if Daehyun doesn’t back off what’s ours, we’ll kill all of you.”

“Where is he?” Jongup said, through gritted teeth. It came out strained, and Youngjae could practically feel Jongup’s discomfort with his inability to protect them, with the need to take the threats.

“Not here,” the bald man said, flippant as though discussing the weather and not a person. “He’s somewhere, but you’re not going to get him now.”

“You just said –” Jongup said, taking another step only for Youngjae to grab his shoulder, worried he’d provoke their attackers into shooting him. 

“Jongup, stop,” he said, hissing the words under his breath.

“Listen to your bitch.” The bald man’s lips twitched as he spoke. Youngjae gritted his teeth. “You have to pass that message on to the others. Then if you all come – even your pretty boy – we’ll give you the kid back.”

Pretty boy. They wanted Daehyun there, specifically. That was a bad sign.

“Where?” Jongup asked. Youngjae dropped his hand off his shoulder, trusting Jongup’s judgments of what to do.

“Corner of fifth,” the tall man said. “You know the place, don’t you?” Jongup nodded, and Youngjae could see the tension in his body from holding himself back.

And with that, the two men backed off, keeping their guns trained on Youngjae and Jongup until they reached the alley and could turn away out of sight. It was shockingly anti-climatic.

Youngjae dropped his gun as they disappeared, but Jongup remained still, the only change in the amplitude of his trembling, as it became harsher and harsher.

“They came,” Youngjae said, his voice shaking only for him to power through. He tried to sound positive. “We know what they want now.”

Jongup turned to look at him, Youngjae’s voice breaking the spell and jerking him into dropping his gun. His eyes were wide, scared and angry and a whole mix Youngjae couldn’t begin to identify. “They’re going to kill him. Sihwan’s going to kill him.”

“W – what?”

“They don’t have a reason to keep him; it’s just a fucking power game.” He turned away and begin to rush towards the others. “We need to go now or else he’ll be dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'll love you forever if you comment


	18. Support and Demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun sighed, catching his attention. "One last thing,” he said. “If you get shot, cover yourself in blood. Put it on your face and neck and then pretend to be dead. That way, no one’ll shoot you again.”

“You okay?” Daehyun asked. He leaned forward, a light frown growing on his face as he peered at Youngjae. Though his eyes leveled too low for him to be watching Youngjae’s face, it still took Youngjae a second to register what Daehyun had asked about. “Got a lot of bruises.” 

Youngjae raised his hand to prod at his sore throat. It didn’t hurt bad, though every time he went to speak, he could feel scratchy pain firing up and down the inflamed area. “I’m good.” Daehyun nodded with his words, but he still leaned closer. He reached out before pausing, his eyes flickering up to meet Youngjae’s.

“Mind if I –?” Daehyun gestured towards his throat.

“I’m alright,” Youngjae said. “It’s not bad.”

Daehyun’s frown grew, but he nodded. “Be careful with it,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Throats are rough. They can get worse quick.”

Youngjae nodded, dismissing his concerns quickly. “How have you been?”

“Not thrilled to get this call,” he said, grimacing. “You?”

“Daehyun.” Yongguk stepped into the room before Youngjae could respond. His eyes trailed over both of them, lingering on Youngjae’s bruised throat before continuing on. He moved over and sat with them, joining them at a small round table with low, comfortable seats. “I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

Yongguk paused, thinking through his words before beginning to speak again. Youngjae watched with wide eyes, trying not to fidget as he grew both curious and awkward, thinking he intruded on a more personal conversation. “We need you to get Junhong back.”

“Himchan told me.” Daehyun took a sip from his glass, continuing to watch Yongguk. “Said I got singled out and everything.” His voice wavered as he spoke, despite how casually he said it, and he held his glass clenched tight between his fingers. He took another sip, clearing his throat to prevent his voice from faltering again.

Yongguk's intent gaze didn't leave Daehyun's face. “Are you coming?”

Daehyun sighed, setting his drink down. “Of course I am,” he said. “I want him back too, Yongguk.” 

“I know you do.” Yongguk’s eyes softened, and he took a seat next to Daehyun. “We’ll get him. As soon as Himchan and Jongup are back, we’ll talk.”

“Right.” Daehyun took a deep breath and straightened in his seat. He clenched his hands together in his lap, and Youngjae wished he couldn’t see his trembling.

Daehyun controlled it well, but with more and more evidence, Youngjae had to admit Daehyun was scared. 

And he had to admit that Daehyun’s fear terrified him.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, broken only by the rhythmic, comforting sound of Yongguk’s lighter, tapping out a slow, constant beat. Youngjae’s heart joined it, until it seemed that the drumming had his entire body poised for action.

When Himchan and Jongup entered, the beat dropped, disappearing as Yongguk slipped the lighter into his pocket. Youngjae’s heart sank as the two sat without even a greeting. Jongup still shook with adrenaline, but he’d become pointedly calmer than when they first arrived.

“We need a plan.” Himchan surveyed the rest of them. “It’s likely they didn’t tell us everything.”

“It’s obviously a trap.” Daehyun leaned over the table as he spoke, coming close enough for his sleeve to brush Youngjae’s arm. “There’s no way they’d just give us Junhong.”

“So what do they want?” Youngjae said, biting his lip. “They can’t just want to kill us; they let Jongup and I go.” Jongup stiffened at the sound of his name. He’d leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Me, probably,” Daehyun said. His eyes flickered over the others at the table before focusing on Yongguk and Himchan. “Why else would they go through all this trouble?”

Himchan met his gaze. “But why take Junhong then?”

“Speculation won’t get us anywhere.” Yongguk’s voice was quiet, but the others around the table went silent to hear him. “We need to come up with a plan for whatever might happen.”

“We can’t predict what we don’t know,” Daehyun said. His fingers tapped against the armrest next to him, but above the table, he'd been possessed by a complete, overall calmness. Could the others even tell he was scared? “I won’t walk in there blind.” 

“Is there a choice?” Himchan asked. “Jihun and Minsu made it clear they want us all there.” 

Daehyun groaned, pushing back from the table and standing. He started to pace the room, grimacing and still carrying his half-full glass. “I don’t like this,” he said. “I don’t like this at all.”

“No one fucking likes it,” Jongup said, snapping at him. He moved to stand and follow Daehyun, but Himchan held out a hand to stop him. 

“Sit down, Daehyun,” Himchan said. “We can’t afford to argue right now.” 

Daehyun shook his head, opening his mouth to argue before taking a shuddering breath and coming to a stop. “You’re right,” he said, inclining his head as he moved back to his seat. “I’m sorry.” His voice sounded strained.

As Daehyun sat, he grabbed one of the ever-present bottles and refilled his drink. He spotted Youngjae watching him and offered a pained smile, pouring him a drink as well. 

Youngjae took a small sip of it, needing to stay calm. “Are there cameras nearby?” he asked. “I could try and get into them.” Anything to help them be more prepared.

Jongup shook his head. “There aren’t. Not there. It’s an abandoned train station.” 

“Besides, they knew about you,” Himchan said. “They’re going to ensure you can’t see anything they don’t want you to.” Youngjae grimacing, agreeing with their points. 

“Why there?” Youngjae asked. “You knew the place immediately.” He glanced at Jongup, who looked down at the table, running a finger along a crack in the wood. 

“Last time we were there, Sihwan almost killed Junhong,” Jongup said. His voice had become almost emotionless. He didn’t look up. 

Daehyun snorted, making Youngjae flinch. “Guess there’s a poetic aspect to it all.” He’d dropped any signs of fear, now calm and still. Jongup’s hand tightened on the table, nails digging into the dark wood. “Let’s get back on topic.”

“They’re going to order us to do something,” Himchan said. “Most likely to give up territory.”

“And will we?” 

Jongup lifted his head to glare at Daehyun for the question. Daehyun held his hands up in a gesture of innocence.

“I’m just nailing everything into place. I don’t like unknowns, and I don’t feel like dying today.”

“No one’s going to die,” Yongguk said, his voice sharpening. He glanced around the table and let out a heavy sigh. “We have to consider what may happen if we fail.”

“No,” Jongup said, growling the word. “We won’t fail. I refuse to leave without Junhong.”

“Then what?” Daehyun said. “We all die for him?”

“Yes.”

Daehyun stole a subtle glance at Youngjae. He’d told Youngjae he didn’t plan on dying for Junhong, and Youngjae had agreed. He still did, but now they had plans to retrieve him, Youngjae didn’t know what to do to avoid it.

“I won’t walk in there with no backup plan,” Daehyun said. “We need something, at least.”

“There’s nothing,” Himchan said. “They have Junhong. This is on their terms.”

“I refuse to die today. Not for - Not because of Sihwan.”

“You’re so fucking disloyal,” Jongup said. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, and –”

“Enough!” Himchan said, raising his voice. Jongup broke off, sending a glare at Himchan before returning to stare at Daehyun. “No fighting. Not now.” Jongup’s shoulders hunched forward, and he sank in his chair, the anger visibly flowing out of him.

“We don’t have a choice,” Youngjae said. Daehyun’s hands had begun to tremble again, but his face remained stony as he stared at the others. Jongup’s glare had only grown stronger, but Daehyun didn’t seem to notice that either. Youngjae wished he knew what Daehyun was thinking. “We have to try to save him.”

“We’re on their terms,” Yongguk said. He sighed. “It’s not ideal, but this is all we can do.”

“They won’t kill us.” Jongup ran a hand through his hair, prodding at the bump under his hairline. He looked better than he had while he and Youngjae trained, but he could go downhill again at any point, and they all knew it. “Can you imagine the anarchy if we died? They wouldn’t be able to control it.”

Himchan nodded. “I agree,” he said. “They’re not strong enough to maintain control, and they know it.”

“Okay, so they need us alive,” Daehyun said. “How do you know they won’t bring us there just to kill Jongup? Or me? They hate us the most.”

“It’s like they said.” Youngjae bit his lip as eyes swung to meet his. “They could have killed any one of us, but they didn’t. I don’t think this is just to kill anyone.”

Yongguk sighed, steepling his fingers over the table. “True.” He surveyed everyone, running his eyes around the table before letting them rest on the single, empty space they’d left. “Are we ready then?” he asked. “No time to waste.”

He stood, and both Himchan and Jongup echoed him. 

Before they could say anything, Daehyun's chair scraped across the floor as he stood. He turned from the table, walking towards the door.

“Give me an hour,” he said, already nearly gone. “If I’m going to go on a suicide mission, I want to say goodbye to my girlfriend first.” And with that, he left the room, letting the door bang shut behind him. No one tried to stop him, only staring at the door as it came to an abrupt stop.

“An hour then,” Yongguk said, finally. He left the room, followed by Himchan. Youngjae’s eyes followed them on the way out. As soon as the door shut behind Himchan, Jongup jumped to his feet, grabbing the table as he moved quicker than his head could handle yet.

“C’mon,” he said, motioning Youngjae and walking towards the door. Youngjae hesitated, but Jongup didn’t wait for him, going through the door by the time Youngjae stood. He followed him out.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“I don’t trust Daehyun,” Jongup said, leading him outside. “I don’t trust him not to do something stupid.”

“Like what?” Youngjae asked as they neared his car. 

“I don’t know, but we’re going to make sure he’s where he said he is.” Jongup paused behind the car, pulling something from his pocket. He tossed his keys at Youngjae, who flinched and barely managed to catch them. “You’re driving,” he said. Youngjae nodded, eyes widening as he moved to the driver’s side. 

“What if he’s just meeting his girlfriend?”

“Then I don’t care,” Jongup said, motioning to him to get in. 

Youngjae still lingered, opening the door slowly. “You won’t hurt them?”

“They’ll be fine.” Jongup motioned him in again, impatient. Youngjae got in and turned it on. It came alive with a roar that sent Youngjae’s heart pounding in his chest. 

“I don’t know where I’m going,” Youngjae said, frowning. “He already left – there’s no way we can follow him.”

Jongup scoffed. “We don’t have to,” he said. “I know where she lives.”

“You know –” Youngjae cut off, shaking his head. “Why?”

Jongup didn’t answer, only pointing out the street for Youngjae to turn onto. He drove slowly, and Jongup’s fingers drummed against the dashboard, but he didn’t press Youngjae to speed up.

“She’s a student,” Jongup said. “At the university.” 

“Hmm?”

“His girlfriend.” Jongup glanced at him. “I wonder if you knew her.”

“Not likely,” Youngjae said. From the corner of his eye, that stupid bright ball hanging off the rearview mirror caught his attention. He wondered how Jongup could stand it while driving. “There’s a lot of students.”

Jongup nodded, and Youngjae glanced at him. The ornament caught in his vision again as Jongup had him turn, and he had to ask about it. “Why the ball?” he nodded towards it. Jongup’s brow furrowed as he processed the question.

“Oh, that.” He reached up, now blank-faced, and touched it, making it spin in slow circles. Youngjae saw it had ‘Seoul’ written on it, spelled with the Roman alphabet as though it had come from a tourist shop. “Junhong got it for me.”

Youngjae made a small acknowledging sound, not wanting to press further considering the nature of the answer.

“It looks stupid, doesn’t it?” Jongup said. “That’s why he put it here. He said my car’s too depressing, and he leaves a mess in here when he rides with me too.”

“It’s not that stupid,” Youngjae said, not sure how to answer that. 

Jongup looked away, staring out the window. “Take the next left turn.” 

Youngjae complied, turning onto a residential street. He recognized the look of cheap college apartments and slowed, unsure if he should be watching for Daehyun’s car or not yet.

“He’s not from Seoul,” Jongup said. “Came here after he ran away.”

Youngjae said nothing to avoid interrupting whatever had possessed Jongup to explain further.

“Turn right at the stop sign.” Once he turned, Jongup began to watch out the window again, this time scanning addresses. “He nearly froze to death and refused to tell me anything for weeks. I asked him if he thought he was on vacation here or something, and he stole that for me the next day.” He reached up to mess with the ornament, a soft, nostalgic smile on his face. “It’s been a while since I’ve thought about it.”

“It seems like a good memory,” Youngjae said. One with a bittersweet ending, where Junhong tried to leave and worked with Sihwan for two years then nearly died again, only for Jongup to save him. Again. 

“Yeah. We have our issues – that’s really fucking clear – but yeah. I miss him.”

“We’ll get him back.”

Jongup didn't respond to Youngjae’s quiet assurance. “It’s this street. Here, pull over here.” Youngjae did, parking in front of another house. He shut the engine off and scanned the street for Daehyun’s car. 

“There he is,” Jongup said, nodding towards a porch. Sure enough, Daehyun stood on it, leaning against the balcony. “She must not be home.” She lived in a house, not an apartment complex, and Youngjae wondered if she lived with a large group of friends.

Daehyun pulled his phone up to his ear, and as soon as he spoke, the line of his shoulders softened, and he stood less tense, resting against the balcony. He didn’t smile, but the sheer relief on his face made guilt bubble up in Youngjae’s stomach. Jongup dug his nails into his palm as they watched. 

“It looks like he's just visiting her,” Youngjae said. “We should go.”

“Not yet,” Jongup said. “And either way, he’s more loyal to her than us.”

Youngjae nodded, but he didn’t agree. “He’s still coming with us,” he said. “He’s saying goodbye just in case because of that.”

“He’s wasting time.” Jongup let out a heavy breath. “I don’t trust him,” he said, glancing at Youngjae as his frown deepened, lines growing heavier on his face. “You don’t either, but you still defend him.”

“Not really defend,” Youngjae said, protesting. “But no, I don’t trust him.” Even though right now he trusted Daehyun more than he had in a long time. He’d never seen Daehyun show emotions other than that calculated friendliness he’d used with Youngjae. Daehyun’s fear changed things, and Youngjae could tell from it that Daehyun meant his words.

He wanted to live through this situation, and so he’d do anything he could to make it go smoothly. Youngjae trusted him for that, at least.

“Why not?” Jongup asked, his sharp eyes running over Youngjae’s face. “He’s said something to you?”

“I mean –” Youngjae cut off, biting his lip and wondering if he really wanted to tell Jongup.

“Youngjae,” Jongup growled. “What did he say to you?” 

It seemed like he had no choice whether to tell him or not. “Nothing really disloyal,” Youngjae said, fiddling with his hands. “He just doesn’t think that highly of any of you.”

Jongup snorted. “As if that’s a surprise.” 

Youngjae nodded, agreeing with that assessment. He didn’t want Jongup to go after Daehyun now, not when he already had been on edge, but still, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think of Daehyun’s ideas. “Can I ask you something?”

Jongup stiffened, his eyes never leaving Daehyun. His expression tightened. “Yes.”

“I – never mind –” Youngjae tried to back down. Bad idea. He shouldn’t ask about this now.

“What is it?” Jongup glanced at him, and something in his gaze lightened just enough that it hurt Youngjae’s chest to see it happen.

“What do you plan on doing after this?” he asked. “Do you do anything other than this?”

Jongup raised his eyebrows. "Probably take Junhong out to dinner. He had been talking about trying a new restaurant. Why?"

"No - I mean after the gang. Like, with your life. Is this your whole life?" 

Jongup turned his attention entirely away from Daehyun, staring at Youngjae. He didn’t speak for long enough that Youngjae’s heart began to pound in his chest. Unsure, his gaze flickered around before he took a deep breath and forced confidence into himself again. He met Jongup’s gaze.

“I know it shouldn’t be everything, but it is. I’d get people I care about killed if it wasn’t, and I refuse to do that.” He went silent, eyes still locked onto Youngjae. “And after – I don’t know. Is there an after? I’d rather me die than the others. But I guess if it does happen, my brother lives around here. Maybe one day I’ll stop by.”

Jesus. What the hell could he say to that? “He’d probably like that. Uh – your brother, I mean.”

Jongup nodded. “He would. Maybe. I think so, at least. It’s been a long time since we talked.”

A car pulled past them, stopping right in front of the house Daehyun waited at. Youngjae didn’t respond, instead watching as the door opened, and a short girl with long, dark hair stepped out and almost ran up the steps. 

Daehyun smiled, thin and worried, at the sight of her before wrapping her in a hug. He pressed her against his chest, one hand cupping the back of her head as he buried his face into her hair. They stood like that for a few minutes, silent and intensely personal, despite how it happened in public and with an audience watching. Youngjae had to look away, uncomfortable with watching such a private scene. 

Finally, they separated, though Daehyun refused to let go of her entirely, holding her hand in both of his. Hana reached up to stroke his face, saying something Youngjae couldn’t hear to him, but Daehyun shook his head in response. That only made her more insistent, shaking her own head and pulling him towards her door. Daehyun tried to wave her off, but even Youngjae could see something was wrong with him. No doubt Hana wanted to make sure he was okay. Without a choice, Daehyun followed her inside.

Jongup took a deep breath from beside him, almost shuddering. “Let’s go back,” he said. “We don’t want to be here when he comes out again.”

Youngjae nodded, turning the car on again and leaving the area. Jongup said nothing the entire ride back, but Youngjae caught his eyes focused on the ornament hanging from the mirror anytime he looked towards him. 

By the time they walked into the meeting room, Yongguk and Himchan had already returned. Youngjae hesitated, seeing their curious eyes, but Jongup passed them without a word, moving into his seat. Himchan looked up when they entered.

“Youngjae,” Himchan said, making him suppress a jump. “We need to talk.”

“Okay?” he said, standing in front of Himchan and trying not to fidget. Himchan stood, and Youngjae noticed he and Yongguk’s hands had been resting on top of each other, not holding each other but still giving support.

Youngjae trailed after Himchan as he left the room, his uncertainty mounting. Himchan led him into the same back room where Jongup had been after he’d gotten injured. They sat on the couch, a small distance between them. His eyes flickering from the door and Himchan, Youngjae took a deep, calming breath to stop his heart from pounding.

“Before we leave, I wanted to tell you something,” Himchan said. Youngjae nodded, his throat constricting as he waited for what Himchan planned to say. Did he know Youngjae had admitted he cared more for his own life than Junhong's? With a pause, Himchan continued to meet his gaze, his eyes boring into Youngjae’s soul until he struggled to not tap his fingers against the cushions. Himchan took a deep breath. “We're here for you.”

“What?” Of everything Youngjae had expected, this wasn’t it.

“We haven’t spoken much,” Himchan said. “We should change that.”

“Right now?” Youngjae said, his pitch rising with surprise and skepticism.

“No,” Himchan said. “But sometime. We know hardly anything about you, Youngjae.” 

Youngjae paused. “I know nothing about you.” He looked over at Himchan, taking in deep eyes set on a handsome face. Youngjae had never looked so closely at him before, only skating his eyes over Himchan and then moving on. Himchan was right to say they'd hardly ever spoke.

Himchan nodded. “I know,” he said. “We don’t talk much about things like that. Been a long time since there’s been someone new – well, someone who wanted to know us, at least.” Right. Daehyun had joined them two years ago, but he’d made his disinterest in the others crystal clear.

At least, with everyone but Youngjae, considering his insistence that they were similar people. Not to mention how he’d told Youngjae he could be like family to him eventually. Then again, he’d said Junhong was like family too, so maybe he’d had a couple exceptions to his own rules.

“I don’t share much either,” Youngjae said, shrugging. “I never have.”

“I’m not surprised,” Himchan said. “But this kind of life can be hard, and sometimes you need to talk about it. We all do. Even Jongup comes to me sometimes.”

“I’ve hardly done anything so far.”

“I know,” Himchan said. “But today’s going to change that.” He stopped, swallowing hard and closing his eyes for a brief second. “Do you think you can kill someone, Youngjae?”

He froze, staring at Himchan, his back stiffening as the question sunk into every pore on his body. The question sounded too real spoken in such a way, laid out in front of him in words he couldn't misunderstand. “I don’t –” He cut off. Youngjae didn’t know, but that answer seemed like a cop-out. He refused to give that answer, and so he stopped, thought about it. Finally, he came up an answer, though still not a good one. “I think if I say yes, then that means I’m a bad person.”

His voice shook as he said it, but Himchan only nodded. His eyes softened, though he made no move to reach out towards Youngjae. “It doesn’t,” Himchan said. “I know it’s hard, but I think it’ll be easier than you expect.”

Youngjae looked away, not able to meet Himchan’s darkened gaze. “Is that a good thing?” His voice sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat as he finished, wanting it to return to normal. 

“It’s what needs to happen,” Himchan said. “I know it’s not easy, but you can do it.”

“Thanks,” Youngjae said, unsure if Himchan meant it as a compliment but wanting to turn the conversation away from the current subject.

“It –” Himchan hesitated, no doubt thinking through his words to ensure he got the message he wanted to Youngjae. “What I’m trying to say is that if you need to talk, all of us are here for you, and no one will judge you.”

Youngjae shook his head. “I doubt that. Doesn't that just mean I'm weak?”

“No. Struggling to kill isn’t weak,” Himchan said. “Needing to go to a place where you don’t care anymore is.”

Youngjae’s eyebrows knitted together at Himchan’s words. He didn’t understand. Himchan noticed, but before he could clarify, Daehyun knocked on the door. 

His eyes softened as he took in Youngjae and Himchan’s positions. “We’re ready to go,” Daehyun said. He paused, waiting for an answer that didn’t come before speaking again. “If you are too.”

“Thanks,” Himchan said, but he made no move to stand up. Instead, he took a few seconds to consider his words, then spoke again. “It gets bad when you’re alone,” he said, his voice softening. “Don’t let it. We’re here for you. Yongguk and I can stay with you if you’d like, or Jongup would probably – well, he’d definitely stay. Even Daehyun, most likely.” Himchan looked up at Daehyun, who nodded, his eyes solemn.

“I’d hang around if you want,” His face looked pale, eyes tired and stress heavy in the lines of his forehead. “Probably would be good for me too.” 

Himchan stood, walking over to Daehyun and placing a hand on his shoulder. Daehyun stiffened with the contact, his eyes becoming more shaded as he waited for him to speak. “We’re here for you too,” Himchan said. “Don’t think we aren’t.”

Daehyun’s lips trembled, and he pressed them together until they nearly turned white. He took a breath, and Youngjae almost expected him to thank Himchan for it. “We can take my car,” Daehyun said instead, turning around and shrugging Himchan’s hand off as he changed the subject in a sloppy, obvious way.

“I’ll come with you,” Youngjae said, a little hesitant as he followed Daehyun. 

But Daehyun nodded, a small smile growing on his face. “Thanks.” They moved back to the main room and got the others, heading outside.

“I’m not driving with you,” Jongup said, going towards his own car. Already the fall sun had begun to drop, beginning to cast the streets into darkness. Youngjae hesitated as Jongup got into his car, but Himchan split away, shaking his head at Jongup before he could get into the driver’s seat. Without an argument, Jongup moved to the passenger’s side, tossing his keys to Himchan.

Yongguk followed Himchan, leaving Youngjae and Daehyun alone. 

“Are you ready?” Daehyun asked once they had gotten into the car. He started it, pulling out onto the street behind Jongup. Youngjae fiddled with his hands, unsure about being with Daehyun so soon after they’d followed him. He couldn’t get the image of Daehyun and Hana hugging out of his mind.

Daehyun had hugged her like he prepared to lose her forever. Youngjae wished it wasn’t so clear Daehyun thought they might die tonight.

“I guess so,” Youngjae said, trying to hide how lost he felt. “A little nervous.”

Daehyun huffed out an amused breath. “I’m terrified. Things like this – straight out fights and the like – aren’t my thing.”

“It’s not a fight,” Youngjae said, protesting. 

Daehyun shook his head, tightening his hands on his steering wheel. “Youngjae,” he said, biting at his lip. He stole a glance towards Youngjae before returning his eyes to the road. “It’s not going to be easy to get him back. They’re lying to us.”

“We don’t know that,” Youngjae said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. Daehyun sighed.

“Yeah, we do.” He shook his head, his hands opening and closing around the wheel. “You should try and stay out of it,” he said. “God, you know nothing.” 

“I know a little,” Youngjae said. He looked down, running his hand over his gun. “But not much.”

Daehyun hit a hand hard against the wheel. “Dammit!” Youngjae flinched. “Sorry. This isn’t supposed to be like this.” Daehyun paused, glancing at Youngjae with dark, serious eyes. “Can I trust you?” he asked.

“Of course,” Youngjae said. In his head, Daehyun and Hana hugged.

“No, not ‘of course,’” Daehyun countered. “You’re close with Jongup, and Jongup might even trust you. I don’t trust him. Can I trust you?” 

Youngjae paused, taking a deep breath and considering. “Yes,” he said, finally. “You can trust me.” Daehyun had looked so relieved once he spotted Hana, despite her clear worry over him.

“Good,” Daehyun said. A red light brightened his face, gleaming off his eyes. “You can trust me too. No games. I want us both to live tonight.”

Youngjae nodded. He’d already thought that. 

Daehyun sighed again, frowning. “I have a plan,” he said. “If things go wrong. I – can’t tell you everything about it though.”

Youngjae hesitated, picking at the seat under him. “I don’t understand.”

“If things happen,” Daehyun said. “And things start going wrong, I’ve got a plan. You just need to stay alive until then, okay?”

“And I can’t know?” 

“No,” Daehyun said, shaking his head. “Your reaction has to be real. If it happens. Otherwise, Jongup’ll kill you.”

“He’ll kill you then,” Youngjae said, fidgeting. He'd almost expected Jongup to once he'd seen Daehyun waiting for Hana.

“I can take care of myself,” Daehyun said. “Or at least I have a chance. You don’t.” Youngjae nodded, seeing his point.

“Why did they tell Jongup and me to make sure you come?” Youngjae asked. “He didn’t mention anyone else by name.” At least, almost name. But that was another thing, how Jihun had called him ‘pretty boy.’ They had to know each other.

Daehyun groaned. “Because he’s pissy with me. And he thinks I don’t care about Junhong.”

“You know him?”

“Of course.” A grim smile darkened Daehyun’s face. “Run into them a lot, especially recently cause they’ve gotten so fucking daring.” He glanced over, catching Youngjae’s confused expression. “Quick version’s that I have things they want, and I’m good at what I do. I've spent the past two years making it clear I care about no one but myself, and they bought it.”

“But it’s not true.”

Daehyun took a deep breath, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “No, it’s not true.” His voice had dropped. “But they have to believe it. Would never fucking leave me alone if they didn't.”

Youngjae nodded. He'd expected Daehyun knew the other gang somewhat well, and it made sense Daehyun had gone to such lengths to keep his mask going. Hadn't Youngjae seen it today? He'd controlled his fear better than anyone else Youngjae had ever seen, and Jongup had accused him of not caring because of it. No one seemed to understand Daehyun and how he worked, and it looked like he wanted it that way. Except - Youngjae had just learned of an exception. Hana. She'd known exactly how to react to Daehyun. 

Did Daehyun's comment about him being like family mean he thought Youngjae could also know him like that one day? It didn't matter, not now. They had more important things to worry about.

"What do you think is going to happen tonight?” Youngjae asked.

“I have no idea,” Daehyun said. “Which is –” He broke off, shaking his head. “It’s bad.”

“How do I stay alive?” he asked. “If everyone starts shooting, what – what do I do?”

“Find cover,” Daehyun said, his answer cold and immediate. It must be nice to be asked a question he knew the answer to. “A brick wall, concrete. The thickest you can find. Bullets go through more than you’d think, and they’re good enough to shoot you through stuff.”

Youngjae nodded. He’d never considered that, but it made sense. 

“Never been there myself, but it’s an old train station. There’s got to be some cover.” Daehyun paused, turning left before coming to a stop behind another vehicle. Ahead, closer to the stoplight, someone honked. “Don’t shoot unless you have a clear shot and are already behind something that can protect you. Draw as little attention to yourself as you can. Hopefully, they won’t focus on you too much.”

“Thank you,” Youngjae said. 

Daehyun shook his head. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You shouldn’t be coming tonight. None of us should go tonight. They’re going to try and kill us all, I guarantee it.” And with that, he fell silent.

Youngjae fiddled with his hands, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached for his gun but paused and curled his fingers back before he touched it. Instead, he pulled the dart from his pocket.

Turning it over in his hand, Youngjae pressed the sharpened tip into the pad of his index finger. He’d come a long way since he’d first joined this gang, and though he hadn’t ever been in a situation like this, he’d proved he could do more than he’d ever imagined.

Maybe they had a chance tonight. Maybe they’d live.

Daehyun sighed, catching his attention. Youngjae looked up, dart still in hand, to see Daehyun watching him. “One last thing,” he said. “If you get shot, cover yourself in blood. Put it on your face and neck and then pretend to be dead. That way, no one’ll shoot you again.”

Youngjae tried to respond, but his mouth dried up so badly he couldn’t speak. Daehyun seemed to understand, swallowing hard to calm the slight trembling in his lips. He took a deep, strangled breath as he pulled into a dark parking lot. Youngjae got a glimpse of an old, boarded-up building as Daehyun stopped a few spaces away from Jongup’s car. He shook as he got out of the car, following Daehyun over to the others. 

The three waited for them. Jongup bounced on his toes, no doubt ready to go save Junhong. He already had his hand on his gun. Both Yongguk and Himchan looked stiffer than Youngjae had ever seen them. 

As Daehyun and Youngjae joined them, Daehyun rested a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder, possibly finding comfort in him or possibly trying to stop Youngjae from trembling. Youngjae didn’t know which one it was.

Yongguk looked at them, scanning his eyes over each of them. “We’re going to get Junhong back,” he said. As though he’d stood on the car and given a motivational speech, everyone nodded.

They were going to get Junhong back. Daehyun trembled beside him, removing his hand from Youngjae’s shoulder. As they walked, Youngjae fell in line with Jongup. Shoulders brushing, they carried on together until the path grew too thin for them to walk side-by-side, and Youngjae moved behind him.

In the falling darkness, the path had become treacherous, with thorns and jaggers growing up across it. Cracked concrete left the path rough and treacherous, and he had to watch his feet to refrain from tripping. Youngjae tried to take deep breaths as they walked, hoping they didn’t have far to go. 

Within a couple minutes, it opened up into an old train station. Youngjae could see the track, which now had plants growing from within the metal lines, and the old station building had fallen into disarray. Part of the wall had collapsed, leaving bricks and shards of glass strewn over the ground.

A single streetlight above it worked, casting dark shadows, but also lighting everything just well enough for them to reveal a small group of people huddled on the other side of the station building. 

As they approached, one stood, though Youngjae didn’t know him. The man had a slim, small body, perhaps even shorter than Jongup and with thinner shoulders. 

Others behind him turned to face them. A gun’s safety clicked as someone switched it off. Youngjae scanned the outlines he could make out, seeing a long body slumped against the wall. Junhong?

“So you came,” the man said, with a loud chuckle that seemed to hang in the air. He smiled, and the dim light caught on his teeth, making them glow in the semi-darkness. 

“Where’s Junhong?” Yongguk said. “We’re all here.”

“Hey, slow down,” he said. “There’s no rush.”

“Where is Junhong?” Jongup said, stepping forward as he accentuated each syllable of his demand. 

The man laughed again. “Where’s your pretty boy?” he countered. 

Daehyun took an audible breath from beside Youngjae. “I’m here, Sihwan. Where’s Junhong?”

Youngjae started. He should’ve expected it, but staring at the man he’d heard referenced so much, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes.

Sihwan. 

“So you came,” Sihwan said, his eyes focusing on Daehyun as a smile grew on his lips. “You must be getting sentimental.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am proud of this chapter.


	19. Confront and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you shoot me, everyone will die. Do you really want to cause that, Jongup?”

What do you want?” Daehyun said. “You went pretty far out of your way to talk.” 

“It’s past time for us to have a chat.” Sihwan stepped forward towards him, only to stop when Daehyun grabbed his gun. “Careful now,” he said. “You don’t want to risk the kid, right?” He spoke a few words Youngjae couldn't catch in a low voice, and it took until the people in the darkness behind him reacted for Youngjae to notice the Bluetooth in his ear. 

A gun clicked behind them, and Jongup jerked forward. "Don't you fucking dare -"'

"My business here's with Daehyun," Sihwan said, addressing Jongup. "Be quiet and maybe you'll get your boy back, okay?"

"I should fucking kill you here," Jongup said. Despite his snarled words, he hesitated and didn't pull his gun, only too aware that Junhong would die if he shot Sihwan.

Sihwan noticed and smiled. "See? We're on the same page." He turned back to Daehyun and prompted him again, watching with cold, serious eyes. Daehyun moved his hand off his gun. 

Youngjae reached into his pocket and slipped his dart into his sleeve. If necessary, he had a weapon he could use anytime. But for now, he waited. Throwing it would only cause chaos and a fight he still hoped to avoid.

“We haven't got business together.” It impressed Youngjae how easily Daehyun could control his voice. Daehyun trembled next to him, betraying fear which went no further into his reactions. “We’re here for Junhong.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” Sihwan said. He smiled. “I know you too well. You’d leave any one of them here to rot.”

To Youngjae’s shock, Daehyun laughed. “That’s your problem, Sihwan. You never look at the whole picture. Doesn’t matter what I think of him, just matters that I don’t let you think you can get away with pulling shit like this.”

“So whatcha gonna do, sweetheart?” Sihwan asked. “You know what we want. Shows weakness if you give it to us.”

“Shows fear if I wouldn’t’ve come,” Daehyun retorted, shifting to cross his arms over his chest. “Besides, let’s be real: you’re shit at keeping territory, and we both know it.” He shrugged. “It’s only temporary.”

Sihwan’s jaw locked, and he stepped closer to Daehyun. Youngjae shied away, his heart pounding, but Daehyun stood totally still. Even the slight trembling stopped as Sihwan approached, and Daehyun regarded him with a calm, borderline condescending look.

Sihwan stopped in front of him, only inches from Daehyun. That close, the height difference between them only became more prominent. Youngjae recalled how Daehyun said Sihwan looked like a gust of wind could blow him over. It was true, but the reminder of what he’d followed that with – how Sihwan shouldn’t be underestimated – made Youngjae suppress a shiver.

Daehyun raised his chin high enough to look over Sihwan’s head, as though he weren’t even there.

“You’re hard to track down, sweetheart,” Sihwan said, seeming to not care about Daehyun’s apparent lack of interest. “And now that you’re here, you’re really gonna talk to me like that?" He rested a hand on Daehyun’s shoulder, prompting his gaze to drop. The tilt of his head brought his and Sihwan’s faces within inches of each other. "I could kill you now.”

Daehyun shivered, an unintended reaction Sihwan’s threat tore from him, and Youngjae could see the tension grow in Daehyun’s shoulders. Sihwan grinned, tightening his arm around Daehyun’s neck.

“What can I say?” Daehyun said. “Just not interested in you.” His voice came out sounding strong and airy, a complete one-eighty from his tense figure. Despite it, Daehyun’s fear remained evident, and Sihwan caught it, if his growing smile was any indication.

The dim light flashed off Sihwan’s teeth. “I’ll change your mind about that,” he said. “You and me need to talk before we give your boy back.”

“I’m listening.” Daehyun still stared straight ahead, stony and with his mouth set in a harsh line.

“Get your people out of West End,” he said.

Daehyun nodded. “That all?”

“You’re okay with that?” Sihwan’s lips twitched into another smirk. “Oh right – anything for Junhonggie – or at least that’s the façade. See, I play this game too. Want me to explain it?" He paused and waited as though expecting an answer. "You’re here ‘cause you need their protection, and they’re watching now.” He gestured at the others, glancing over far enough to catch Youngjae’s eye. “So you’ve gotta care about Junhong.”

“Bring him here. Now.” 

“Not asking me very nicely, are you?” Sihwan said. “Maybe I should ask you for something else, since you’ve been so generous. Unless, of course, any more is too much, and you’ll draw the line.” He used the hand on Daehyun's shoulder to lead him a couple steps forward, into the no man's land between the two groups. Youngjae could see his shoulders shift as he took a deep breath to stay calm as Sihwan touched him. 

“Get off me,” Daehyun said, pulling away. He took a step back, and Sihwan’s grin grew even further as he followed. Somehow he gave the illusion of cornering Daehyun, despite the open space surrounding them.

“Aren’t you gonna ask?” 

“What is it?” Daehyun said, finally. His voice sounded flat and uninterested, something he’d no doubt carefully forced.

Sihwan laughed. “You’re trying too hard. You may be good at what you do, but this – you’re out of your comfort zone.” He circled behind Daehyun, forcing him to turn and face their group to keep his eyes on him. “Cute as it is, crow-tit, we’ve got real business here.”

Daehyun stiffened, his eyes widening as he glanced behind him. His hand dropped to his gun again. It took Youngjae an extra second to realize what Sihwan had done. He’d separated Daehyun from them and stuck him between two enemies – those behind him and Sihwan in front of him.

They were going to kill him. He’d been right about them wanting him. Sihwan was going to kill him.

Youngjae shifted his weight to his toes, part of him wanting to do something to help.

A larger part reminded him that he’d get killed if he did anything. Youngjae stilled. What could he do anyway?

Looking around, he first met Jongup’s unreadable gaze and then saw Yongguk shake his head, a subtle order not to react. Youngjae released a heavy breath and tried to calm himself. They knew what to do better than he did. He needed to trust them.

“Relax, Daehyunnie,” Sihwan said. “We’re not here to kill you.” Daehyun pulled his gun from its holster, and Sihwan had his pointed back before Daehyun even finished raising it. “Give it to me,” he advised. “Before someone gets hurt.”

“No,” Daehyun said. “I won’t.” Sihwan sighed as though Daehyun was only wasting his time and motioned to someone behind Daehyun. 

“No!” Jongup moved forward, his own gun in hand as he reacted to what he presumed was an order to kill Junhong.

Sihwan turned enough to see him too. “Jongup,” he said, smiling. “As nice as it is to see you again, the only reason I’m not killing you right now is because then I’d have to take out all of you, or else risk my own people. It would be way too much work to handle all that at once. So step down now, before I change my mind.”

“If you touch him, I’ll kill you,” Jongup said, snarling the words. “Give him back. Now.”

Sihwan’s face had hardened, losing the cruel playfulness he used to deal with Daehyun. “You’ve stayed back and been quiet this long, I’d advise you to continue doing so. I’m here to speak with Daehyun, not you. Otherwise – well…”

“You can’t kill him,” Daehyun said, smiling as the realization occurred to him. “Junhong. You couldn’t handle the fallout.”

Sihwan laughed. “More like don’t want to. But you’re right. We'd rather not kill him, but you know, it's pretty easy to grow fond of him, so maybe we'll just keep him after all.” He looked between both of them. “So drop your guns, because if you don’t, you’ve got no chance to get your kid.”

Daehyun and Jongup exchanged a look, and Daehyun’s eyes flickered to Himchan, who nodded at him. He lowered his gun, hand trembling as he put it away. 

“I should kill you,” Jongup said, not yielding. His jaw had locked. “You’ve had it coming for a long time.”

“Jongup.” Sihwan spoke matter-of-factly, his tone changing. The differences between Jongup and Daehyun were only too clear. Daehyun would do what was best for him, would consider his options and react. With Sihwan, he seemed to hesitate too long, fearful of reacting when he didn't understand the whole situation.

Sihwan knew Jongup would possibly shoot him even if that meant all their deaths.

“If you shoot me, everyone will die. Do you really want to cause that?”

The anger on Jongup’s face grew so much that Youngjae almost expected him to shoot Sihwan anyway. His hands trembled, unable to hold his gun steady.

“Jongup,” Himchan said, voice quiet but with enough authority that Jongup obeyed. He lowered his gun, moving almost in slow motion and no doubt against every instinct he had. 

“You have it coming,” Jongup said, his eyes narrowed. “You’ve had it coming for a long time.” He and Sihwan locked eyes, but Sihwan didn’t taunt him further, instead turning back to Daehyun.

“So whatcha say, sweetheart? Are you willing to give us anything for Junhonggie?” He pointed the gun at Daehyun in a casual manner, watching him clench his hands into fists before he finally lowered his weapon. 

“We haven’t even seen Junhong yet,” Himchan said, calm as he stepped forward into the populated no man’s land. 

Sihwan laughed. “I guess you haven’t,” he said, turning back the other way. “I know that doesn’t matter to Daehyun, but even you’ve got to pretend, right?” Despite the direct address, Daehyun didn’t answer, instead taking the opportunity to walk back and join the others. He came to stand next to Youngjae, taking shallow, quick breaths as he struggled to calm down. 

It hurt Youngjae to see him so scared. Youngjae reached over and grabbed Daehyun’s hand, squeezing it. Daehyun’s hand gripped his back, but he didn’t say anything and refused to look at him.

Sihwan whispered into his Bluetooth, and the others stood, moving towards them. Before, Youngjae had wondered if Junhong had been the figure slumped on the ground, but he’d mistaken. He could spot Junhong with ease now. He towered over the other gang in much the same way he towered over them.

“Junhong?” Jongup took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on Junhong, who remained silent. One side of his face had swelled until he could hardly open his right eye, and dried blood clung to his lip, the aftereffect of a hard hit, most likely. His clothes looked dirty and his shirt had a tear on the sleeve, the material stiffened and brown. 

“He’s okay, Jongup,” a new voice said. The bald man from before stepped into the light, one arm wrapped around Junhong, who looked at the ground, not making an effort to look at any of them. Youngjae didn’t know whether Junhong looked thinner, or if he’d just forgotten how painfully skinny Junhong had always looked.

“Jihun.” Jongup took another step forward, his knife appearing in his hand.

“Stop." Jihun held up his hand. His fingers were spread, but his thumb was tucked over a knife of his own, trapping it against his palm. He moved it to rest it against Junhong’s chest, a clear threat. Jongup pocketed the knife again, freezing and even taking a step back. 

“Are you okay?” Yongguk asked, also stepping forward but not raising any sort of weapon. “Junhong?” The desperation in his voice matched what Youngjae had seen from him in the past week, as they’d struggled to plan to get Junhong back despite having no idea why they’d taken him.

“I’m alright,” Junhong said. His voice came out dry and cracked, and he coughed, clearing his dry throat with a painful, rough sound. Youngjae didn't disagree with his words. Junhong seemed okay, but his exhaustion couldn’t have been more evident with his dragging steps and how he struggled to keep even his good eye open.

“Junhonggie’s just a little beat up,” Sihwan said. “No big deal. He’ll be okay. Right, Junhonggie?”

He nodded, a small, simple motion which suggested they’d gone through routines like that before. Sihwan’s gaze turned back to Daehyun, his lips twitching into a smile as he saw Youngjae’s hand entwined with Daehyun’s. 

“Oh right,” he said. “I almost forgot. It’s been a long time since you got a new member, hasn’t it?” He turned to direct his words at Himchan and Yongguk. “I saw his face plastered all over, of course, but I never thought you’d find him special.” Sihwan turned back to Youngjae. “Tell me, how’s the computer science career going? Sorry 'bout the lack of anything here for you, but we didn't want you all coming in cocky.”

Youngjae bit his tongue, holding back a scathing comment. It wouldn’t help anything. 

Sihwan sighed, clicking his tongue with disappointment. “I hoped you’d be talkative, like your – friend – there.” He nodded at Daehyun, who dropped Youngjae’s hand quickly, as though only just remembering he held it. “Seems you’re more like this kid.” He poked Junhong's shoulder as though it were necessary to show who he meant. Next to Junhong, Sihwan looked comically tiny. 

“We’re not here to talk about Youngjae,” Daehyun said. “What do you want, Sihwan?”

Sihwan shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, calculating eyes moving between the two of them. “When I saw you together before, I assumed you were using him. But now – now I wonder.”

Daehyun’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly, but it was enough to confirm Sihwan’s thought. He laughed, his eyes still on Youngjae, who found it hard to breathe.

“This changes everything,” he said, gleeful. “I wonder what’s so special about you.” He peered at Youngjae as though trying to calculate his worth. Or maybe how he could use him. Youngjae took a step back, and Daehyun moved over, as though he wanted to put Youngjae behind him. 

“What do you want, Sihwan?”

“Well, I was gonna ask for Northside,” he said. “But now I’m considering just asking for Youngjae.”

What? Youngjae shook his head, his hand curling around his dart. Somehow this entire event, as nightmarish and unpredictable as it seemed, had remained within what Youngjae expected. But this - this took it up to movie-levels of dramatic.

At least he had a hidden weapon. He could do it, could hit Sihwan with his dart if he continued this charade. Youngjae still hoped he wouldn't have to.

Daehyun laughed, startling him. “You’re kidding me, right?” he said. It seemed Daehyun agreed with Youngjae's diagnose of the situation. “Are you really trying that? I’m not Jongup, and he’s not Junhong. Not that easy.” Of course. Sihwan didn't actually want him; he'd taunted them with the idea of repeating history. 

No wonder Daehyun had worked so hard to convince Sihwan he cared about no one, if that was what he tried as soon as he could.

“I suppose not,” Sihwan said. “Can’t fault me for trying though – never know, maybe what you've got is one-sided, and he'd be happy to come.”

Daehyun shook his head, crossing his arms as he prepared to answer. Before, he could Jongup cut him off.

“That won’t happen,” Jongup said, his voice harsh but level. “We’re not leaving Youngjae here.” 

Sihwan raised his eyebrows. “So it’s not just crow-tit who cares about you,” he said, looking at Youngjae as though impressed. “That’s a lot of ground to cover in what? Two, three months?” 

Youngjae still refused to answer.

“Enough games, Sihwan,” Daehyun said. “Drop it.”

“You should be more friendly,” Sihwan said. "Or else you won't get him back." When Daehyun didn't back down, Sihwan turned to Junhong. "Seems like you don’t matter that much to them, kiddo.” He grinned at him, clapping him hard on the back. “Shoulda stuck with me all those years ago.”

Junhong stumbled forward and Youngjae realized his hands were tied behind his back. No wonder he wasn’t fighting back. Youngjae was stupid to not have seen it sooner. Jongup moved forward, pausing only when Sihwan focused his gun on him.

He stopped, staring Sihwan down. 

Sihwan turned to look at Youngjae, his eyes curious. “So they care about you. But does it go both ways? They screwed you over, didn’t they?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Daehyun snapped. “Enough’s enough, Sihwan. What do you want?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sihwan said, grinning like mad at Daehyun. “Never thought I’d see the day where you gave a shit about anyone other than yourself.”

“What do you want?” Daehyun's question grew more forceful, becoming a demand.

“Why do you assume you have what we want?” Sihwan said. “Maybe I changed my mind.” He leaned all his weight on one leg, resting a hand against Junhong's arm. Junhong didn't try to shove him off.

Daehyun shook his head. “Yeah right. You want to throw us off guard. It’s not working.” Youngjae wasn’t sure if he agreed with that. “So what’s the endgame?” Daehyun asked. “What do you want?”

“Whatcha got to offer?”

Daehyun paused. His eyes took in Junhong and Sihwan, before sliding back over to Jihun, whose knife still rested against Junhong’s chest. “Southside,” he said, finally.

Sihwan's eyebrows rose, and he shared a glance with Jihun. “Go on.”

“I’ll pull everyone out,” Daehyun said. “It’s yours.”

Youngjae had no idea why the Southside was so important, but as Daehyun spoke, he could see Jongup’s eyebrows rising higher and higher. Daehyun fidgeted, as though he recognized the surprise of everyone around him, but he didn’t turn back to determine what the others thought of his offer.

“And why should we believe you, pretty boy?” Jihun looked him up and down, finally lowering the knife. Junhong let his head fall forward with a soft sigh. Sihwan’s grip on his arm tightened.

“I’ll give the order now, if you want,” Daehyun said, flippant. “And I would hope you’re strong enough to keep it.” He scoffed. “If you can’t, not my problem.”

Jihun stepped towards Daehyun, who stared up at him. 

He stood completely still until Jihun reached out for him. “Don’t touch me,” Daehyun said, moving away. “Do we have a deal or not?”

“Did our message get passed on?” Jihun said, turning to look at Youngjae and Jongup. “You tell ‘em what we said?”

“That you can take out any of us, whenever you want?” Daehyun said. Youngjae could hear the scorn dripping from his voice. “Yeah, we got that one.”

“Good,” Jihun said. “Better watch out then.”

“If you don’t get everyone out of Southside, we’ll kill Youngjae,” Sihwan said. He remained at Junhong’s side, moving his hand from Junhon'g arm to his shoulder. “Never bothered to threaten anyone to control you, crow-tit, ‘cause everyone knew you’d throw them all under to get on top. Nice to know you’ve changed.”

“Let Junhong go,” Daehyun said, ignoring him. His eyes flitted over to meet Youngjae’s for a moment. “Now.”

“Uh, uh,” Sihwan said. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’ll get my people out of Southside. I’ve said it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page then.” Sihwan shoved Junhong towards them, pulling out his gun and focusing it on him. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Immediately, the rest of them had their guns pointed at Jihun and Sihwan, Youngjae moving only a second slower than the others.

Junhong stumbled through the distance, his legs seeming to only somewhat work as he headed forward. He seemed to not notice the tension surrounding him, how no one but him moved. Had he also hit his head? They’d taken him down somehow, and he had a further way to fall than Jongup. But he didn’t look concussed, more exhausted. Deep bags under his bloodshot eyes grew even darker as he approached. 

Youngjae had assumed those were shadows before, but with how Junhong walked with his shoulders slumped and like his legs took too long to comprehend the message to move, he reassessed it.

The messed up side of his face became grotesque up close, and the swollen-shut eye watered, leaving his reddened cheek wet. Youngjae's eyes threatened to tear up from just looking at it.

“We’ll let you leave,” Sihwan said. “Go on. You don’t want this to get messy, right?”

Unwilling to turn their backs on him, they did a weird backward scuttle until the train station building blocked them from view. For everything that had happened, it ended in an anticlimactic rush of anxiety, which refused to drizzle away until they were out of view.

Don’t underestimate Sihwan, Daehyun had said. Youngjae understood why now. Despite Daehyun’s best attempts, Sihwan had managed to control most of the conversation and certainly push it in a direction he found favorable. He paused, looking back just as Sihwan and Jihun turned to speak to the others.

In the increased darkness, the rough path had become even harder to maneuver. No one said anything. Perhaps in retrospect it seemed stupid, but Youngjae had imagined they’d get Junhong back and there would be hugging and celebration and not this awful, horrible silence. After everything - the stress of feeling unarmed in front of them, the fear of Sihwan singling him out - stumbling down a rough, overgrown path seemed so underwhelming and stupid Youngjae wanted to laugh.

Maybe he’d gotten a little hysterical. Someone rested a hand on his shoulder, and he looked back to see Daehyun, who tried and failed to smile at him. From how pained his twisted expression looked, Youngjae thought he understood.

As they reached the main road, Yongguk and Himchan led them to the cars again. Only there, the group splitting between Daehyun’s silver car and Jongup’s black one, facing each other, did Jongup pull out his knife, spinning Junhong around without a word and cutting the rope from his hands. 

Jongup grabbed his wrists, rubbing them and working blood back through them. Still, Jongup said nothing, and neither did Junhong. Youngjae remembered how careful they’d been around each other before Junhong had been taken.

He’d forgotten because Jongup had cared so much about it and about saving him, but clearly the issues persisted past what Youngjae had anticipated. No one else seemed surprised by their behavior. Jongup let go of Junhong’s wrists, moving away as Himchan stepped forward.

Junhong looked down at him, slouching and saying nothing. Himchan, too, was silent. Without a word, he pulled Junhong into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around Junhong, who bent over in the hug, laying his chin on Himchan’s shoulder. In the garish light from the road, Youngjae could see Junhong taking deep breaths, trying to just breathe. Despite that, his words comforted Himchan, not the other way around.

“It’s okay,” he said, his dry voice breaking the eerie silence. “I’m okay. It’s all over, Himchannie.”

In response, Himchan’s arms squeezed tighter around him. Youngjae looked away, finding it too personal of a moment to intrude on, even though the others had no such qualms. As Himchan stepped away, Yongguk took his place, also pulling Junhong into a hug. 

Now Jongup also looked away, his eyes focusing on the ground. As Youngjae watched, he kicked at a stone, almost pointedly ignoring what happened in front of him. Youngjae glanced up to see Daehyun staring at him.

He should thank Daehyun for saving him, but Youngjae didn’t know the words, and he definitely didn’t know how to start that conversation. Ever since Junhong disappeared and they had made that tentative deal, Daehyun had treated him differently.

Even so, Youngjae would’ve never said he cared about him. He wasn’t sure, even now, if he’d say that, but he also couldn’t deny it was Daehyun who had gotten them through tonight. He waited to see what would happen, but Daehyun said nothing. Finally, Youngjae closed the distance between them, pulling Daehyun into a tight hug. 

It seemed to be exactly what he needed, for he sighed and collapsed into it, resting his face against Youngjae’s neck. Daehyun’s hands wrapped around his back, pulling him in closer. Youngjae could hear his breathing speed up, echoing both loud and shaky in his ear.

Youngjae rubbed circles on Daehyun's back and let him clutch at him like he'd fall apart without something solid against him. “It’s okay,” Youngjae said, his voice a rough whisper. “We’re all okay.”

Daehyun’s words about how things like this terrified him rose to the front of Youngjae’s mind, and he grimaced, not wanting to imagine how he had felt standing in front of Jihun and Sihwan with no one between them. He had hardly been able to arm himself for most of it, with Sihwan’s constant taunts and threats whenever Daehyun so much as touched his gun. “You did it.”

Daehyun nodded, hooking his chin on Youngjae’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse and quiet. “I needed this.” Youngjae said nothing, holding Daehyun until he stopped trembling. Eventually, Daehyun pulled away, staring at Youngjae for another pause before turning to look at the others. His back straightened, and he took a breath deep enough to move his shoulders. The trembling stopped.

Youngjae echoed him, tuning back into what was happening in time to see Jongup step in front of Junhong. They met eyes, and neither said anything.

Junhong broke the silence and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Jongup, who didn’t move away but also didn’t react. He stood completely still, letting Junhong trap his arms against his waist with the hug. After a long pause, he leaned forward into the hug.

For a few seconds, it seemed like no one breathed.

“I missed you,” Junhong said, resting his chin on Jongup’s head. Jongup flinched, and he raised his head again, though he didn’t end the hug. Junhong stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said, growing more desperate.

Jongup said nothing, trembling in his embrace. When it became clear he didn’t plan on answering, Junhong stepped away. Jongup looked down, unable to meet his eyes. He moved away to lean against his car.

“We should get back,” Himchan said, glancing between them. “We need to get you cleaned up, Junhong.”

“Right,” he said, hesitating and glancing back at Jongup, who leaned against his car, staring at the ground.

“We can go in my car,” Daehyun pulled out his keys and unlocked it. Junhong jumped when it beeped.

As they walked over, Daehyun rested a hand on Junhong’s shoulder, leaving it there for a couple steps before pulling away again.

Youngjae didn't follow them, instead waiting for Jongup to react. He didn't want to leave Jongup alone, not now. 

When he did nothing, Youngjae joined him, leaning against his car. It left a dusty stain on his pants. 

“Come with me?” Jongup asked, his voice quiet. Youngjae nodded.

It seemed like Junhong had passed his exhaustion to Jongup through their hug. Had the black circles under his eyes been there before they'd left for the train tracks? Youngjae hadn't noticed them.

Youngjae walked around the car to the driver’s seat and got in, hoping his movement would prompt Jongup. It did. By the time he got made it around, Jongup sat in the passenger's seat, staring at the keys in his hand. 

Youngjae started it, and as always, it came alive with a loud roar, the engine turning over with a shudder that racked the car. “Where should I go?” he asked, not sure what Jongup wanted.

Jongup said nothing, his mouth a thin line as he clasped his hands together. Youngjae watched the clock, not pressing him. 

"Can I stay with you tonight?” He sounded unsure, his words quiet and hesitant as he stole a look at Youngjae. He swallowed, hurrying to explain more as he noticed Youngjae’s surprise. “I – ah, Junhong and I share an apartment, and I can’t –”

“You can stay.” Youngjae cut off his rambling explanation, trying to smile at him. He started driving, pulling out of the parking lot and glancing at Jongup briefly as he went. “But – I don’t understand?”

Jongup dropped his head into his hands, shaking his head. “I – he – I can’t do it.”

Youngjae frowned. “Jongup…”

“What?” he asked, his voice sharpening despite how he didn't move. Youngjae held up a hand to calm him, not sure what else to do, especially while he drove. Jongup pressed the palms of his hands into his temple, likely trying to alleviate one hell of a headache. “Sorry. I just – seeing Sihwan and Junhong just – it’s too much. I can’t do it.”

“It’s okay,” Youngjae said. “You don’t have to explain.” 

But it seemed the gates had opened because Jongup continued. “He was such a fucking child,” he said, letting out a bitter laugh. “He picked Sihwan over me. We both know it. Sometimes I think he misses being with them too.”

“They didn’t treat him well.”

“Clearly.” Jongup raised his head, his eyes not fully open. He needed rest, but Youngjae doubted he'd get it tonight. “But it wasn’t his choice to come back, was it? They didn’t want him years ago, and they don’t want him now. All we’ve ever been is his second choice.”

“That’s not true,” Youngjae said, trying to sound as though he understood Junhong's situation. He knew a lot about them and more about it than he had a week ago, but Junhong's motivations - leaving Jongup for a man like Sihwan - remained foreign to him.

Jongup didn’t buy his white lie – as though that were a surprise. “It’s not a big deal, not anymore.” He stared out the side window, watching as though he could make out every building in the darkness, not only vague shapes.

“Maybe it is.” Youngjae stopped at a red light and looked at Jongup, seeing the bright red reflected in his eyes. “It’s okay if it is.”

“Junhong’s past it. They all are,” Jongup said. “I’m the only one still stuck on it.” Jongup turned to stare at him right when the light changed and Youngjae looked away. Despite not watching him, Youngjae could here the desperation seeping into his tone. “I thought I was over it.” 

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” Youngjae said, nearly repeating what he’d said before. “Especially with what happened.”

“I couldn’t do anything to get him back.”

Youngjae started, glancing at him. It was true. Sihwan had hardly spoken to Jongup. “That doesn’t matter.”

Jongup shook his head, sinking into his seat. He said nothing else. Youngjae reached where he lived, parking his car a couple blocks away as per usual. Jongup left the car without a word, and by the time Youngjae echoed him, he’d already started walking back.

“Jongup, wait for me,” Youngjae said. To his surprise, Jongup did. He stopped, shivering in the cold fall wind and standing nearly on the steps to the old office building.

When he got close, Jongup's pained face with his scrunched eyebrows and the wrinkles which looked permanent on his forehead grew even more evident. Youngjae reached out and laid his hand on Jongup's shoulder. With his touch, Jongup went very still, not looking at him but also not forcing him away. He led Jongup inside, taking him to his room. Youngjae closed the door behind him, unsure if the others would come back there and not wanting to run into them when Jongup so clearly needed time.

Jongup sat on his bed, his hands gripping the thin blanket. “I used to stay here,” he said, his voice flat. “Back when it was just Himchan and Yongguk and me.”

Youngjae hadn’t given much thought to who’d used to use his room before, but he supposed it made sense. “Why’d you move out?” he asked.

Jongup’s hands tightened in the sheets. “No room for Junhong here.” Youngjae winced. He’d hoped to change the topic from Junhong, but it seemed harder than he thought. Jongup took another shaky breath. “We got really close really quick,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought he trusted me.”

“He does,” Youngjae said. He sat next to Jongup, and without hesitation, Jongup moved closer, first leaning against him before dropping his head onto Youngjae’s shoulder. His taut muscles loosened the slightest amount.

Youngjae ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at his lap with a heavy heart. He wanted to help him.

“Yongguk’s right sometimes,” Jongup said, surprising him.

“What?” Youngjae paused, not resuming his motions until Jongup leaned his head back into his hand.

“When he talks about us needing to do good.” Jongup kept his eyes closed, his mouth barely moving as he whispered the words. “We’re fucking monsters.”

“You’re not,” Youngjae said. He clenched his free hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm as Jongup’s words set his heart pounding. Two months ago he would've agreed with them. “You’re not a bad person. It’s just a bad situation.” Youngjae had never realized Jongup felt remorse for his actions with the gang. Intense loyalty to those he saw as family, yes, but general guilt? 

“I’d kill Sihwan,” Jongup said. “Without even thinking about it. Slowly. And I wouldn’t care if Junhong wants him alive or not.” It all came back to Sihwan and Junhong, didn't it? The one time Jongup got betrayed and forgave the perpetrator.

“Why would Junhong want him alive?” Youngjae asked.

Jongup pursed his lips. "I don't know! But he – defended him before, and now – I still see that thing in his eyes when he looks at him, and I don’t fucking understand it.”

Youngjae had once played the role of mediator rather often, either the devil's advocate to push friends and classmates to consider other opinions or a helpful ear to listen to other's problems. It seemed like forever ago. Those people likely would hate him if they knew what he'd become. But Youngjae didn't feel bad. Helping Jongup gave him the same satisfaction he'd found in helping those friends - perhaps even more, because Jongup dealt with so much more than anyone he'd known before.

Knowing Jongup trusted him enough to even say these things meant something to Youngjae. For weeks Jongup had insisted on not getting close to him, that he'd rather kill him. He'd told Jongup recently that things had changed, and this only made it more obvious. Youngjae liked it.

“Have you asked him?” 

“Why would I do that?" Jongup said, mumbling the words with such a low voice that Youngjae struggled to hear him.

Youngjae pressed Jongup further into his shoulder. "To make sure you’re not reading more into it than what’s actually there.”

"I probably am," he admitted. "Junhong’s not like he used to be.” Jongup moved his head off Youngjae’s shoulder, instead leaning against him and slipping his arm around Youngjae’s back. “I don’t trust him. I should.” His fingers played with the material of Youngjae’s shirt.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Youngjae said.

“Why are you okay with me doing this?” Jongup said. 

The abrupt change of subject made Youngjae stutter. “I don’t know.” He wished he had something better to say. “But it’s nice.” Youngjae got the feeling what he said wouldn’t matter and that Jongup had a point he wanted to make no matter what.

“I wanted to kill you though,” Jongup said. “Junhong stopped me.” And there it was.

“So? You didn’t.”

“Junhong didn’t ruin everything for us, but I still blame him for everything that happened.”

Youngjae paused, understanding his point. Jongup sighed, dropping his head back to Youngjae’s shoulder. Despite how he seemed to want to convince Youngjae that he didn’t want Jongup near him, he also seemed desperate for comfort. 

“It’s different,” Youngjae said. “Because I had no reason to think you wouldn’t kill me, and you had reasons to think Junhong wouldn’t betray you.”

Jongup shook his head, pressing his face into Youngjae’s neck. The feeling of his lips moving against Youngjae’s neck, even if only from Jongup speaking, made goosebumps run down his arms. “I want to protect him,” he said, “but I don’t trust him, and I can’t forget that.”

“Trust takes time,” Youngjae said.

“Like I don’t know that. It’s been years, Youngjae. It’s not like he betrayed us a week ago.”

“But it just came up again,” Youngjae said. “It’s okay if there’re old wounds.”

“No it’s not,” Jongup said. “Because they mess up the whole dynamic, and now he’s with Daehyun again, and that’s even worse.” He let out a sudden growl, pushing away from Youngjae before standing and walking towards the door. “I need to –”

“Don’t go,” Youngjae said, his voice soft. As if he’d commanded Jongup, he froze, facing the door but making no move to open it. 

Jongup spun towards the wall, resting both hands against it as though he needed its support. Youngjae’s mouth dropped open as Jongup punched the wall, his legs buckling under him as he did it, leaving him to collapse onto his knees. He grabbed the front of his shirt tight in his fist, clutching it as he dealt with the aftershocks of pain from the hit.

Youngjae jumped to his feet, sinking to a crouch once he reached him. He took Jongup's hand.

Right as his Youngjae’s fingertips brushed his skin, Jongup’s head snapped up to stare at him, but he didn’t protest, instead loosening his grip on his shirt so Youngjae could look at his knuckles. A thin cut left a line of blood on him, but it wasn't anything to worry about.

Jongup pulled his hand away only to raise it towards Youngjae, who remained still as he touched the scar he’d left on Youngjae’s face. “I thought I saved Junhong, but I’ve never saved anyone.” The fight had drained out of him, his anger one final burst that now had past. His shoulders drooped forward, and his hand trembled.

“That’s not true,” Youngjae said. Jongup's fingers wrapped around his chin, exerting only the gentlest pressure on his face. He stood, and while he didn't pull Youngjae up, his hand lingered on him for long enough that Youngjae followed. Jongup's lips twitched, almost as though he would smile as he watched Youngjae, running rough fingers over his lips and cheeks. But the hand froze, and the almost-smile died.

“He’s supposed to be the one I save,” Jongup said. “The only one.” He ran his fingers through Youngjae's hair once, hesitating before repeating it.

Youngjae relaxed into the new touch. “Maybe he’s not. Maybe you saved me too.” They'd warned him in the past that he would've had it worse had another gang found him, and after meeting Sihwan, Youngjae couldn't help but agree.

“I wanted to kill you.” Jongup’s hand cupped the back of Youngjae’s head, pulling him in closer. His gaze looked soft, both unsure and shockingly tender. 

“But you didn’t.” Youngjae closed the final inches between them, touching his lips to Jongup’s. The hand on Youngjae’s head gripped his hair. For a few seconds, Jongup's lips were still against his own, and he worried he'd misunderstood the situation. But as he opened his eyes, ready to pull back and apologize, Jongup's palm came up to rest flat against his back, and he responded. Youngjae's eyes dropped shut again.

Jongup pulled away, taking a shuddering breath. He left his hands on Youngjae and stayed only inches from him. When Jongup spoke, Youngjae could feel his breath against his lips.

“You’re still not Junhong.” He sounded unsure, but his hand still gripped the back of Youngjae’s shirt, bunching the material up against his palm. His other hand skimmed through Youngjae's hair.

“No, I’m not.” Youngjae refused to break their gaze. “But that's not a bad thing.” Jongup’s eyes widened at his answer before he looked away, staring down. Youngjae didn’t move, didn’t speak. Jongup needed to work through something before they continued.

Youngjae’s heart pounded in his chest, only growing faster when Jongup looked up at him with something new in his eyes. His hesitation had disappeared, and this time he initiated, his lips soft and warm even as they pressed Youngjae for more.

He was more than happy to give it. Youngjae had expected Jongup to demand dominance over the kiss, but he gave as good as he got. If Youngjae would’ve stopped and thought about it, maybe he wouldn’t have found that surprising at all.

Jongup’s hand cupped Youngjae’s face as his other palm pressed harder against Youngjae’s back, pulling him even closer. His skin burned through his clothes as Jongup’s body fit against his own, and Youngjae skimmed his hands over Jongup’s back, moving them down to rest on his hips. The tips of his fingers ached to touch Jongup's skin.

Youngjae leaned back to look at Jongup, smiling as he saw his glossy, wet lips and the want in his eyes. He ran his hand through Jongup’s hair, moving to kiss down his neck. Jongup tilted his head to let him reach more, shivering when Youngjae accentuated his kisses with a small bite. 

He lifted his head, pulling Youngjae against him once again. Despite the relative innocence so far, Youngjae couldn't help but roll his hips into Jongup's, making him groan. _"Youngjae."_

Unable to hold back a smile, Youngjae grinned at Jongup before meeting him for another kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's One Shot, folks. Enjoy the youngup, it's taken a long time to get here.


	20. Playing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He loved her. He didn’t love them. What did Jongup expect to happen, considering how the odds stacked?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd think at this point I'd be past comments coercing me into updating earlier than planned but I got so many and it was super nice so here we are

“How will this affect you?” Himchan asked, taking a sip of wine. Youngjae’s eyes followed Daehyun as he took a seat across the table from him and Jongup. Junhong sat next to Daehyun, avoiding looking at Jongup at all costs.

“It’s no big deal,” Daehyun said, pouring both his drink and Junhong's. 

“That was our most productive territory.”

“So?” Daehyun raised his hands in a 'what can you do?' type gesture. “Nothing I can do right now. My people are out of it, and I’m not going to risk anything – not right now, at least.” 

“We can’t risk it,” Jongup said. His hand slid over to rest on Youngjae’s thigh, his touch both comforting and gentle. The more time past, the more it seemed Jongup couldn’t keep from these discreet touches. Youngjae didn't mind them.

Daehyun’s eyes flickered over to Jongup, but he nodded. Youngjae realized – perhaps a tad dryly – that this was the first time he could remember where Daehyun and Jongup agreed on anything. 

“Of course we won’t,” Yongguk said. “But we’ll need to find somewhere to pick up slack.”

Himchan sighed, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “We can’t do anything about it now.” The table fell silent, no doubt unsure where to go from there. 

Junhong reached out towards the middle of the table, and Jongup sucked in a sharp breath as Junhong got closer and grabbed the ever-present deck of cards in the middle. He pulled them towards him, flashing the table an awkward, dimpled smile. “We should play.” He waved the box in the air. “Been forever.”

“I don’t know –” Himchan said, glancing at Jongup, who stared at the ground, stone-faced. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Come on, hyung,” Junhong said, borderline whining.

“Maybe a game’ll do us good,” Daehyun said, looking around. “Might as well. Nothing else to do now; we've got a little time.”

No one disagreed, though Jongup still looked down, his hand sliding over Youngjae's leg to clench his knee. Youngjae rested his hand on top of Jongup's and the grip loosened as Yongguk carried a case of chips to the table, where he began to split them up as Junhong dealt. Jongup took his hand from Youngjae’s leg and slid the cards closer. He leaned back in his chair, letting out another loud sigh. Junhong almost misdealt the cards when he glanced at Jongup.

“Have you played before?” Jongup asked, pointedly watching Youngjae, who nodded. “We used to play every week,” Jongup said, glancing around the table. The others looked down, messing with their hands. “It’s nice to do this again.”

Junhong beamed at him, but Jongup still wouldn’t look at him, taking a shaky breath. He lifted his hand, arranging the cards as he wanted, and the game started. 

They played for a couple hours. Youngjae watched as both the game and the alcohol loosened Jongup up until he started to laugh with the others. This hand, Youngjae had already folded, as had Junhong and Yongguk. They waited to see if Daehyun would raise. He considered it for near a full minute, looking between the cards and those still in the game.

Jongup looked pleased, as he had for most of the game, but Youngjae had realized not long after the game started to not trust any of their expressions – except perhaps Junhong, who struggled to hide the light in his eyes any time he had a good hand. 

Himchan threw his cards in. 

“Looks like it’s just us,” Jongup said, matching the raise. “Whatcha got?”

"You first," Daehyun said, and Jongup chuckled, laying his cards down to reveal a full house. He grinned, finally dropping that fake, faintly amused look for something more genuine as he reached for the chips.

Before he could touch them, Daehyun dropped his own cards, showing off four aces. Now Daehyun smirked back, and Jongup leaned back into his chair, watching open-mouthed as Daehyun laughed and gathered the chips.

“Better luck next time,” Daehyun said, and something in Jongup’s expression made Youngjae giggle, and then the entire table laughed. Jongup started too, and he leaned into Youngjae, who patted his shoulder with fake condolences.

He’d never seen Jongup and Daehyun so carefree with each other, but the tension between them still persisted in the air, caught in the way Jongup’s eyes followed Daehyun’s motions even when the game ended.

Daehyun laughed again, and Youngjae watched Jongup’s amusement die on his face as he stared after Daehyun. Youngjae frowned, wondering what had triggered the change. He tapped Jongup’s shoulder, which made him jump and look away.

Jongup avoided his concerned gaze, sweeping his cards into a pile. 

“Hey, Jongup.” Himchan’s voice came as a surprise. Jongup hmmed in response, and Himchan continued, “Think you can hit bullseye?” He nodded at something behind them, and Jongup grinned before turning to a dart board on the wall.

“I saw that,” Jongup said. “Did you bring that here?” It was the same board Jongup used at the warehouse, complete with its collection of scars from his knives. 

“Thought you’d like it,” Himchan said. "We haven't had much free time recently. I figured you haven't had many chances to go there." Yongguk also smiled at Jongup, watching as he pulled out his knife. 

“I haven’t been practicing,” he said. Jongup threw a glance at Youngjae, breaking his own concentration. “Speaking of, we should do that again soon.” 

“Maybe,” Youngjae said. “Do I need to run there?” He made an overexaggerated horrified face at the thought, scrunching his nose and pouting his lips.

Jongup snorted. “I used to run that every single day. You can’t complain.”

“Really? Was it uphill back then too?” Youngjae said, unable to hold back from teasing him. Jongup turned to him, raising both his knife and his eyebrows in a way which would’ve terrified Youngjae a month ago. He grinned and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just curious.”

Jongup would've looked threatening, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face, and he turned back to the dartboard, adjusting his grip on the knife. Pausing and eyeing the board, he threw it, flinging it across the room. It hit the board but bounced hilt-first against it before clattering to the ground. Jongup made a face, shaking his head as he stood. “Aim was good but it’s never guaranteed with these.”

As he walked, Himchan turned to Youngjae. His smile disarmed Youngjae, who had hardly seen him make any face but the serious one he used while thinking. “Don’t believe him about the running – he only did two days a week at best.”

Before Youngjae could respond, Jongup whirled around, his body poised with amused offense. His eyes had widened with surprise, his mouth half-open. Youngjae’s heart swelled at the sight of it, and the intensity of his own response shocked him. Jongup had looked happier in the last couple days. Maybe this was the start of something better, with Junhong back and things finally going to normal. 

“Maybe I was just smart and changed the route ‘cause I knew you were waiting,” Jongup said. 

“Oh please, you weren’t prepared at all for us.”

“Still nearly killed you,” he said, and Himchan laughed like it was funny. Even Yongguk's smile grew as he listened. Junhong watched with the obvious air of someone who understood the joke and wanted to join but knew he wasn't welcome, and Daehyun looked away, not even bothering to pretend to participate.

Youngjae understood none of it. “What?” he asked, both amused and confused and hell, also bemused with everything. “What happened?”

No one spoke for a beat as Jongup, Himchan, and Yongguk shared a glance. Did they not trust him enough to tell him? Youngjae had thought they’d past that.

“I’ll tell it,” Yongguk said, gleefully – gleefully? Youngjae wanted to know what they’d put in the drinks tonight – and he rubbed his hands together before he began to speak. They’d been trying to decide who got to start the story, not whether to tell him or not. The full feeling in his heart increased further, and Youngjae pressed his lips together to keep from grinning. Yongguk had no such restrictions, his smile big and full of gums and teeth. “Himchan and I worked together back then, and we wanted to meet –”

“Meet? Please.” Jongup turned to Youngjae, his own smile tugging at his lips. “They wanted to kill me for running drugs ‘round these parts, ‘cause I was fucking good at it, and they didn’t like that.”

“We just wanted to talk with him,” Himchan said. Youngjae got the feeling they’d argued about that before and that the real answer didn't matter.

“But anyway,” Yongguk said. This might’ve been the most Youngjae had ever heard Yongguk say in one sitting. It was certainly the most excited he'd seen him. “We waited for him along that route you run, cause we got a tip he went every day, and it took him two weeks to show his lazy ass.”

“I was busy!” Jongup said. “And they’d warned me I had people tailing me. Eunsook got worried and kept me in.”

“Like he could’ve,” Himchan said, waving him off. “You probably slept through half the day like you normally do.”

“Oh, as if you’re up with the sun –”

“Anyway,” Yongguk said, loud enough that Jongup cut off and turned to face him again. “We finally saw him and cornered him, and what did you say, Himchan?” Himchan rolled his eyes in such a dramatic way that Youngjae blinked with surprise. 

“Should’ve known you’d make me repeat this.” From the twinkle in his eye, it seemed like Himchan had known already. “Understand we knew nothing about Jongup except he had bright blue hair back then,” he said, addressing Youngjae directly. “So Yongguk grabs him into this alley, and the first fucking thing I saw was how tiny he looked – he’s still short and he’s grown a few since then – and I was like, ‘this can’t be him; he’s just a kid.’

“And made me let him go,” Yongguk added. “With a lot of indignation for Jongup when I originally refused.” 

"Yeah, yeah." Himchan waved him off. “I went to see if he was okay, and Jongup –”

“I nearly killed him,” Jongup said, the amusement reflected in his eyes. “He was all, ‘oh you poor kid, are you lost?’" Jongup pitched his voice lower into a not-great imitation of Himchan, complete with fake, earnest eyes he directed at Youngjae. They narrowed again as he grinned. "Yongguk managed to stop me, then we spent the next six months on-and-off trying to kill each other.”

“Nearly succeeded half-a-dozen times too,” Yongguk said. 

“How did you end up working together?” Youngjae asked. He'd thought about it before, how such different people came to care about each other.

Himchan answered. “We didn’t like each other, but we did have a… mutual respect. And when Eunsook left –”

“Things got harder for me,” Jongup said. He moved to where he could skim his fingers over the nape of Youngjae’s neck, making his hairs rise. “I couldn’t run everything alone. I got cornered, and they got me out of it, so we made a deal.”

“By then we’d realized there’d be drugs out here no matter what, and Jongup was likely better than the alternative,” Himchan said. “And we were right. Plus, we didn’t know it then, but that’s the day Junhong started working with us too.” Himchan smiled at Junhong as he said it, and a surprised but pleased look spread over Junhong’s face. Jongup did the opposite. He frowned, some of the light fading as his own heaviness returned.

“I’d met Jongup by then,” Junhong said, explaining for Youngjae but with his entire focus on Jongup, who only grew angrier, his jaw locked and his back stiff. “We weren’t close yet but I was starting to trust him.” It was a mistake for him to continue talking. Youngjae reached out for Jongup, able to feel his trembling and wanting to placate him. “It only took us a couple more weeks after that, really,” Junhong said. “’Course, I never met Himchan and Yongguk ‘till a long while after –”

“I need to go. I have things to do,” Jongup said, interrupting him. He started towards the doors, glancing back and running his eyes over all of them before he left. His gaze paused on Junhong, who pushed his chair back and nearly stood, but Jongup shook his head at him before leaving.

The door shut behind him, and all conversation faded, leaving Youngjae to look between the others and the door, trying to decide whether to follow Jongup. Daehyun shook his head and dropped a hand on Junhong's shoulder, but Junhong shook him off. He looked at his hands, and Youngjae couldn’t take his eyes off him. By the time Junhong raised his head, his eyes had become glossy with tears he didn’t let fall.

“He’ll come around,” Youngjae said, He hadn’t planned on saying anything, but with the way Junhong’s jaw trembled and how he closed his eyes for a small reprieve until he gathered his composure again, Youngjae couldn’t bear to stay silent.

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t. He’s just – confused and needs a little more time.” Jongup couldn’t hate Junhong. Youngjae had no doubt of that. They'd all watched Jongup plan to sacrifice anything for him. 

“It happened forever ago,” Junhong said, his voice soft and crackling with emotion. “He’s not ever gonna trust me again.”

Youngjae didn’t know what to say. He’d listened to Jongup hate his own turmoil over Junhong’s actions and recognize he should trust Junhong again, that it’s been a long time. Jongup felt such a messy mix of emotions Youngjae couldn’t blame him for his actions. It must be hell for him right now. Youngjae wished he could make it better.

He should've followed Jongup out.

“Can you talk to him?” Junhong asked, turning desperate eyes on Youngjae. “He trusts you.” Youngjae swallowed hard, feeling the others’ gazes on him. Jongup did trust him, just like he trusted Jongup. But the idea of trying to coerce Jongup past feelings of betrayal didn't sit well with him, causing his stomach to churn. He just needed time, that was all.

“He doesn’t trust me,” Youngjae said, mumbling the words. “He only stopped trying to kill me like a week ago.”

Daehyun snorted. “Made it further than me.” 

“If he's not willing to kill you, you're on a pretty exclusive list,” Himchan said. Youngjae shifted, recalling how Jongup threatened Himchan. They’d only just told a story about Jongup nearly killing him and laughed over it. But Himchan knew Jongup likely better than anyone else, and he knew Jongup would never kill him. Himchan was right. Jongup had told him a long time ago that he'd rather kill someone than let them die. Youngjae hadn't understood it then, but after watching Jongup react to Junhong's kidnapping, throw his own problems aside, and work through a concussion which still ailed him to help, it made more sense.

He should've followed Jongup out. “I’m going to go,” Youngjae said, standing and grabbing his bag. No one tried to stop him.

Despite how Youngjae left only minutes after him, Jongup had disappeared. With a small huff, Youngjae pulled out his phone, rubbing his eyes as the bright light stung them. He hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten, and as he saw the time, it brought a crushing exhaustion over him.

There was no fucking way he was going to walk back tonight. The music of the club pounded in his ears as he neared the main area. He groaned as he pushed open the door, and the sound slammed against him, almost like a physical wall. 

Youngjae slithered through the crowd, making his way outside. Still no sign of Jongup. He called a taxi and got a quizzical look from the driver as he gave him the address of a closed business near his home. Youngjae didn't care. 

With him silent in the back, the driver made no attempt at conversation, something he appreciated. In the silence, Youngjae couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d been here.

The memories of that night with Daehyun were fuzzy, but he didn’t care about that. He’d come a long, long way. Youngjae had figured things out. Yeah, they still had problems – his own departure showed that – but tonight he’d sat there and laughed with the others.

Maybe everything would be okay. Jongup had started working with Yongguk and Himchan six months after meeting them. Youngjae had met them and worked with them for three months so far. Even if not yet, with time he could call the others family too. Even Daehyun, for all his efforts to hold them at arm's length, had admitted he could see Youngjae becoming like family to him. 

The taxi stopped soon enough. He paid the fee and thanked the driver before walking the few extra blocks home. Youngjae went inside and entered his room with a loud yawn before sitting on his bed, which squeaked under his weight. Groaning, he twisted his back, trying to crack it without success. While blinking heavy eyes, he changed and prepared for bed, tossing his warm jacket in the corner. 

Sleep came quickly that night, but it didn’t last long.

A sharp ringing interrupted him, making him groan and grope for his phone. He reached it right as it went to voicemail, and the sound stopped. Youngjae let it drop beside him, flopping his arm over his eyes before drifting back to sleep.

Over an hour later, something else woke Youngjae. This time, he didn't register what it was, only curling towards the warmth in his bed. Something brushed against his head, running through his hair, and a breathy laugh reached his ears.

Youngjae jumped, his eyes snapping open. Jongup shushed him, holding him down with gentle hands.

“You’re okay,” Jongup said, his hand continuing to run through Youngjae's hair. He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and refusing to look at Youngjae now that he looked back. His free hand covered one of his cheeks. “You seemed calmer with me here.”

Youngjae moved up to sit next to him, leaning against the headboard and Jongup, resting his head on his shoulder and trying to clear his sleep-fuzzy mind. Jongup’s hand slipped around his back as he stared at the closed door. He left his other hand covering his face.

“Are you okay?” Youngjae asked. He didn’t mind Jongup joining, but something was wrong.

“You’re doing it again,” Jongup said, avoiding his eyes. “The voice thing.”

“Jongup.” This time Youngjae spoke with more emphasis. “What happened?” Youngjae raised his head and reached for his other hand, but Jongup pulled away, dropping it to reveal three bloody scratches down his face. He had rubbed the wound at some point, making the blood smear towards his ear.

“Can we not talk about it?” Jongup asked. “Not yet, at least.”

Youngjae frowned, both concern and curiosity wanting him to continue pushing Jongup for answers, especially considering someone had scratched him. He nodded, acquiescing to Jongup’s wish. Later.

Jongup began tracing up his arm, his fingertips skimming over his skin. “Why do you still have the dart?” he asked. When Youngjae’s eyes widened, Jongup continued, “it’s on your table, but I’ve seen you play with it. Why?”

“It’s a weapon,” Youngjae said. “And I’m accurate with it.”

“It can’t kill anyone.”

“Yeah but no one expects it.”

Jongup nodded, watching him with a growing smile before finally huffing and shaking his head, amused by Youngjae's answers. “I did that to fuck with you,” he said. “The darts. But you would find a way to really use it.” His hand migrated up Youngjae’s shoulder and to his cheek, his touch both breathtaking and gentle. 

Youngjae hadn’t thought about training with Jongup in a while. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I think I turned out okay.”

“You’re getting there,” Jongup said, correcting him. His hand trembled against Youngjae's face before dropping away. “You need to stay – I want your help, and it’s going to be –” Jongup paused, frustration forcing its way out of him with a small growl. “You need to be careful.”

“With what?” Youngjae asked, his heart sinking. He’d known ever since he’d seen Jongup that something bad had happened, but a piece of his heart had clung onto hope.

“I need to show you something.” Jongup shifted as he spoke, eyes darting around and betraying his anxiety. His hand slid to the side of the bed, reaching towards the night table. His gun sat there. Jongup’s hand hesitated before pulling back, and he didn’t touch it, instead moving away and dropping his palm against the bed.

“Okay?” Youngjae frowned as he saw Jongup’s wide eyes. “Jongup, stop a second. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jongup spat the words, losing all semblance of calm as he stood and began to pace the room. “Everyone asks that. I just – need to show you something.” He stopped and took a shuddering breath which brought him almost back under control. It didn't help Youngjae's anxiety, which mounted higher and higher with each passing second. What had Jongup done? Part of Youngjae didn't want to know.

“I’m all yours.” Youngjae slid out of bed, and Jongup’s eyes trailed over him before turning to the door. As Youngjae slid pants on, Jongup started to pace again, until Youngjae had finished throwing warm clothes on.

Jongup nodded, and Youngjae noticed the deep bags under his eyes. He turned without another word, leading Youngjae towards the warehouse where he'd learned to aim.

For the first time, instead of heading towards the targets, Jongup took him through the door in the back, past the crossed-out, spray-painted smiley faces. He led the way up the stairs and walked the hall with a fast, forceful pace before stopping at a closed door.

“Youngjae –” Jongup paused, pulling out a key and fiddling with it. He'd rushed there, but now he hesitated. “You’re not going to like this.”

That scared Youngjae more than he wanted to admit. “What do you mean? Jongup, what did you do?” The urgency leaked into his voice.

“I don’t trust Daehyun,” Jongup said.

“Daehyun?” For all the issues between Daehyun and Jongup, Youngjae hadn’t expected to hear his name. He’d as good as near proved his loyalty to Youngjae with how hard he worked to keep them all alive in front of Sihwan.

Had Daehyun not been there, Youngjae didn’t want to consider what could’ve happened.

“Yes, Daehyun!” Jongup said, frustrated and trembling. “I – they had Junhong, and he wasn’t there to help us. I need to know he’s loyal and –”

“He is,” Youngjae said. “He saved Junhong!” 

“Exactly.” Jongup’s voice dropped, and he stared at Youngjae with wide eyes, stepping closer only to freeze when Youngjae also backed up. “Junhong’s – he’s – there’re things wrong,” he said. “And I know it’ll be okay with him and me. I know it. But now he’s with Daehyun and – and you are too! I just need to know he’s not going to stab us in the back.”

He spun back towards the door only to pound a fist against it. From within, there was a muffled yell.

“Please don’t tell me Daehyun’s in there,” Youngjae said, letting out an uncomfortable laugh and hoping Jongup would lighten up with the joke. 

Jongup shook his head, looking down as his face darkened further. “I won’t let you stop me,” he said. “I’ll kill her if you tell Daehyun.”

“Who? Jongup, who’s in there?” But Youngjae already knew.

“Hana.” The admission, even if he had predicted it, sent a wave of horror through Youngjae. 

He moved between Jongup and the door, standing his ground as Jongup drew himself up, clearly unhappy with Youngjae’s reaction. “What the fuck? You can’t –”

“You’ve seen him!” Jongup clenched his fists. “You’ve seen Daehyun talk about her. He cares about her more than he cares about us. Junhong could have been killed, and where was he? With her!”

“Jongup – that’s not how that –” Youngjae had understood Jongup’s reluctant mistrust of Junhong and his clear worry over Daehyun, but this – Jongup was wrong. He knew it but making Jongup see it would be near impossible. “Daehyun saved us!” 

“Don’t make me regret telling you,” Jongup said, taking a step towards Youngjae, who didn’t try to stop him. He rested a hand against the door, as though he needed to hold it shut. “If you try to stop me, I’ll kill her. I’ll – I’ll kill you.” His hand moved to his gun, and his eyes flickered around him as though searching for enemies.

Youngjae didn’t even bother to step back. “I won’t stop you,” he said. “But I don’t understand why you took her. Why would that make Daehyun more loyal?” He had to make Jongup see reason.

“I want to know if he’ll pick us over her,” Jongup said. He swallowed, and Youngjae watched his throat work. He dared to take a step towards him, and Jongup allowed it. "Junhong trusts him, and - and you trust him. I need to know this."

“You’re not making it easy for him to trust you.”

“Stop it,” Jongup said, looking down and muttering the words. “You’re doing it again. The voice. I’m not crazy.”

“I know you aren’t –”

“Stop it!” Jongup grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, throwing him back towards the wall. Youngjae’s shirt ripped in Jongup’s fist, and his hands rose to cover Jongup’s. For a heartbeat – several heartbeats – neither moved.

Things had changed since the last time this happened. They had changed. Jongup put no pressure on Youngjae’s neck, and the threat was near nonexistent, with only pain and confusion reflected in Jongup's eyes, in the shaking of his hand, in the way his other one fumbled for his knife rather than actually grabbing it. The heat of his skin leached into Youngjae’s throat. 

“Don’t do this,” Youngjae said.

“Stop me.” Jongup’s fist tightened further, and the back of Youngjae’s collar tightened against his skin. “You could get out of this.”

“I am,” Youngjae said and didn’t move. “Jongup. Stop.” Jongup’s fist unclenched, and his stretched collar fell loose around his neck once again. “You need to listen to me,” Youngjae tried.

Jongup leaned forward, arms caging Youngjae in-between them. Despite their proximity, he seemed unable to meet Youngjae's eyes. Youngjae moved forward, one hand resting on Jongup's arms, the other pushing his chin up to force Jongup to look at him..

Jongup didn’t fight him, but Youngjae could feel him shuddering. “I’m not going to stop. I need – Youngjae, I need this. Junhong’s with him – and, and you saw Sihwan threaten us! I don’t trust Daehyun to choose us over anything. I don’t trust him, and you’re at risk, and Junhong’s at risk – and – and Himchan and Yongguk… I need to do this.” Once he'd started speaking, the words poured from him in a confused jumble. 

Youngjae closed his eyes for a pause, trying to think. He couldn’t stop Jongup if he’d become set on this, and something told Youngjae he’d planned this for a long time. “What’s your plan?” If he pushed Jongup away now, he wouldn’t tell him enough details to make this go smoothly.

Youngjae wouldn’t let insecurity, of all things, get anyone killed – and that included Hana. He didn’t want to imagine Daehyun’s state if she died.

Jongup pulled away, turning to face the door again. “Test him. Let him know we have her and tell him to do something to get her back.” Oh yes, Jongup had had this planned. He could tell from how easily he answered.

Youngjae’s stomach rolled, unease rising up in his throat. Daehyun’s words came back to him – his promise when Youngjae compared Junhong’s situation to his girlfriend. He said he’d die for her.

That meant he’d also be willing to do whatever Jongup ordered to get her back.

He loved her. He didn’t love them. What did Jongup expect to happen, considering how the odds stacked?

“Like what?”

“I told him to kill Yunho,” Jongup said. His eyes scanned Youngjae’s face for his reaction. At the resulting blank look, he continued, "our informant. He’s the best.” He leaned back towards Youngjae, caging him against the wall once more.

Youngjae let Jongup take comfort from him, wrapping his hands around Jongup's arms again.

“And Daehyun knows him?” Youngjae frowned, trying to think. He could see Daehyun all too clearly, distraught over his girlfriend and desperate to get her back. 

Jongup nodded.

“And if he kills him? What’ll you do?” 

Something tightened in Jongup’s face, but he calmed before answering. “I’ll kill him.” Jongup tilted his head to the side, his fingers moving to Youngjae’s neck. Youngjae took in a sharp breath, and Jongup’s hand closed around his shoulder. “You’re close to him. Will you try and stop me?”

Jongup meant to threaten him, but his eyes pleaded with Youngjae. For the first time, Youngjae didn’t know what would happen if he told Jongup he did plan to stop him. Maybe Jongup would kill him, irrational with his explosive anger.

“I’ll kill you too. You think I won’t, but I will," Jongup said, as though he could read Youngjae's mind.

He wouldn’t do it, and they both knew it. Youngjae could say anything right now, and Jongup wouldn't hurt him. Junhong had proved that four years ago.

Youngjae shook his head, and Jongup’s hand squeezed his shoulder harder, making him clench his teeth to avoid a hiss of pain. “You won’t,” he said. “You won’t kill me.”

“I will,” Jongup said. “You’re putting us at risk. Daehyun’s putting us at risk, and if you choose him over me then – then –” He let go of Youngjae’s shoulder and pressed closer, until their bodies were near flush against each other, and Youngjae struggled to still keep his eyes focused on Jongup's face.

Jongup’s eyes begged him. “Tell me I can trust you,” he said, his breath warm against Youngjae's lips. “Promise me.” Youngjae swallowed, unable to speak. “You know Daehyun’s not loyal, and he’s gonna hurt us. I won’t even kill her, I promise. I’ll let her go; I don’t care. I just need to know about Daehyun.”

Youngjae took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I won’t stop you.”

Jongup smiled at him, stress and uncertainty melting off him. He pressed a small kiss against Youngjae's lips, and Youngjae did his best to keep from trembling against him. It didn't work, and Jongup pulled back far enough to look at him with concern and run his thumb over Youngjae's chin. "It'll be okay," he said. "I promise. I'll keep you safe." 

Youngjae nodded. His eyes focused on the mole on Jongup's nose, and he pushed down absurd tears which tried hard to gather in his eyes. “Can I see her?” he asked, clearing his throat when his voice shook. “Is she okay?”

Jongup hesitated before finally pulling away. He unlocked the door. “She’ll be fine.”

Youngjae tried to ignore how concerning that statement sounded. He pushed the door open. “Stay outside?” he asked Jongup, who froze with the question, his brow furrowing. “You can trust me,” he said. “I just don’t want to scare her even more.” 

Jongup nodded. “I won’t leave,” he said. “I’ll wait for you out here.”

“That’s okay,” Youngjae said. “Just let me talk to her.”

“I can hear you through this.”

“Okay,” he said. He doubted it with how thick the walls were and how muffled her yell from before had been, but he wouldn’t question it. Jongup stared as Youngjae pulled the door open the rest of the way and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello?” he said, frowning when he didn’t immediately see anyone. A soft sob answered him, and he noticed a small shape slumped against the corner of the wall. He flicked the lights on. “Hana?”

In the light, he saw her easily. She curled away from Youngjae as he approached. “Don’t come any closer!” 

He stopped, holding his hands up and crouching around five feet away from her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right, like I’d fucking believe that.” She turned to look at Youngjae, and he got a glimpse of her bloody shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Jongup wouldn't have been gentle with her. He would've gotten it done as quickly as he could.

“Like you don’t know.”

“I don’t,” Youngjae said. Her eyes raised to meet his, and he slid closer. “Let me help you.”

Hana moved backward. “Don’t get closer," she spat, glaring at him. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t think you have a choice." He moved towards the wall, twisting so he could sit near her. 

Hana stared at him, red-rimmed and puffy eyes meeting him with a terrified but cold stare. “I know you,” she said. “Yoo Youngjae.”

“That’s me,” he said. Jongup had said she studied at the university. He should've expected her to recognize him. “The news tends to be inaccurate though.”

“Not just from the news,” she said. “Daehyun told me about you.”

That he hadn't expected. “Really?”

She nodded. Her head tilted forward, and Youngjae realized she must be exhausted, not to mention terrified of what Jongup would do to her. “Told me you’re almost like family.”

“Exactly,” Youngjae said, surprised but grateful Daehyun had said something like that. “So you can trust me.”

Hana laughed, shocking Youngjae so badly he had to suppress a flinch. “That’s exactly why I can’t. You don’t know Daehyun well if you think that’s a good thing.” Her head dropped forward again, revealing the bruises around her neck. Had Jongup done that to her too? Of course he had. Stupid question.

“Why is that bad?” He slid a little closer, and Hana allowed it. “Can I?” Youngjae extended a tentative hand towards her stomach, where the worst of the bloodstains were.

“It’s my hand, idiot.” Hana leaned forward, revealing how Jongup had tied her hands behind her back. He reached for them, gasping as he realized the extent of the blood. Jongup had wrapped the wound in sloppy gauze, but Hana had bled through it. 

He untied the ropes, fingers sliding against the blood. As soon as he got it loose enough to slid them off, he pulled her hand closer, frowning at it and swallowing nausea as he comprehended the blood staining everything around them. Jongup had cut off her finger. Youngjae had never seen so much blood in his life.

Hana made a small “ah” of pain as he moved her wrists, and she jerked from his grip, pulling her injured hand to her chest and swinging hard with the other. Her clenched fist cracked against Youngjae’s nose, and he unbalanced, tipping backward and catching himself with his shoulder against the wall. 

He jumped to his feet, staring straight at Hana, who stood with her bad hand curled to her chest, halfway to the door. Youngjae clenched his jaw, pushing down anger as he watched her close and open her fist. 

His nose hurt, and a small stream of blood ran from it. She glared at him, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “Run if you want to,” Youngjae said through gritted teeth, wiping the blood off his nose. “Jongup’s outside, and he’ll kill you.”

“I can take him,” Hana said, backing further away as Youngjae got closer. Bluffing, of course. Even if Daehyun had taught her how to defend herself, Jongup had a good six or seven inches on her and she was unarmed.

“Without a weapon? You’d be stupid to try.”

Hana took another step backward, eyes flitting between Youngjae and the door. Youngjae took a seat at the table, intent on not stopping her, but Hana’s shoulders slumped forward, and she gave up on running.

He motioned to the other seat, and she moved into it, finally pulling her injured hand from where it had left a brownish stain on her shirt.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Youngjae said, reaching for the wrapped hand. She let him take it without a word, and he looked at it, flipping it over in his grasp to try and figure out what to do. The small stump that remained of her left ring finger was caked with blood, which had turned near black as it clotted. The bleeding had become sluggish, slowing enough that Youngjae predicted it would totally stop soon. He couldn't take his eyes off the grotesque sight of where her finger should have been and never would be again.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Hana said. Youngjae broke his gaze from her finger and raised it to glare at her. “Look, you don’t have many options here.”

“Still may do better without you,” she said. “Ow!” She yanked her hand from where Youngjae had been playing with it. Hana moved to gauze to the side, showing Youngjae a long cut across her palm. “Way to be careful, asshole.”

He hissed at the sight of it. 

“You’d think a killer would be more used to blood.”

“You’d think you’d be nicer to your one shot at living.”

Hana laughed at that, and Youngjae watched her cross her legs, calmer than he thought he'd be in her situation. “You’re not my only shot, for one,” Hana said. “And for two – can I return you and get someone who knows what they’re doing?”

Youngjae huffed, standing up and moving towards the door. “Do you want my help or not? Because I really don’t care what happens to you.”

“You do care,” Hana said. “It’s really obvious you care.”

“Don’t presume you know me just because Daehyun told you things.”

She raised a thin eyebrow. “You told me. Not too good at hiding your emotions, are you? Or maybe I’m just good at reading Daehyun, and he’s better.”

Youngjae moved back to the chair and turned it so he could sit backward, one leg on either side of the chair’s back, but still face Hana. “Do you know why Jongup took you?”

“Daehyun pissed him off.”

Youngjae shook his head. “He wants to test Daehyun’s loyalty. Told him to do something to get you back and wants to see if he’ll do it.”

“He will,” Hana said.

“Are you sure?” Youngjae said. “There’s – a lot to Daehyun.” He didn’t want to tell her he’d cheated on her, but whatever their relationship, Youngjae didn’t comprehend it. Until today, he had known nothing about Hana, and he’d built an image of a quiet girl who knew little about Daehyun’s job.

His throbbing nose told him he’d miscalculated. 

Hana let out an amused breath, smiling and looking down. “You know nothing about us,” she said. “I know Daehyun better than anyone.”

“You overestimate how much he cares about you.” Youngjae didn’t know that. 

Hana snorted. “You don’t know him if you think that. Daehyun and I’ll stay together until one of us dies.” 

She didn’t say it like a girl in love, not making their situation into a fairytale. Hana stated it, matter-of-fact and with a small shrug, as though she’d told Youngjae a random fact about whatever she studied, not about her boyfriend.

“You seem pretty sure about that.”

“If you knew anything about us, you’d agree. But you don’t, and that means you don’t know Daehyun well enough to end this mess.”

“Then tell me about you,” Youngjae said. “If it’s so important.” He sounded more sarcastic than he'd planned.

Hana seemed to take no notice of it. “We’re all each other has, and it’s always been like that,” she said. “There’s no way Daehyun’ll step down and just let that happen. I really don’t care whatever you think he’s done because it’s never going to change anything.”

“You grew up together?” Youngjae said. “Most call those people family.” 

“Not like that, asshole. Besides, family doesn’t stick with you,” Hana said. “Family’s the people who you want to be there but they'll fuck you over someday - like you're doing to Daehyun, right now. Daehyun’s not like that, and he’s going to kill anyone Jongup tells him to. You don’t want that, so stop him.”

“How do you know that? Maybe I want Jongup to kill you both.”

“If you and Jongup kill me, Daehyun'll kill every one of you. You don't want that, and so you want me alive." Her tone was near condescending. 

Youngjae hated it. "You overestimate him."

"You wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My best friend offered to smack me for this chapter since none of you guys can. tbh I think that's fair.


	21. Flash of a Neon Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know what would happen, but he couldn’t help the feeling that everything had fallen into order. The city line no longer pierced sporadically through the horizon. Six men stood shoulder-to-shoulder. When it sparked, the gasoline would lead straight to him.
> 
> Maybe he was overdramatic. Maybe.

Youngjae looked up from his laptop as the door opened, trying to smile as Jongup came in. Finally, someone. Youngjae hadn't seen anyone else all day, and Daehyun hadn't answered his phone. Jongup took a seat next to Youngjae and slid in close enough that their legs touched.

“What are you working on?” he asked, peering at Youngjae’s screen only to smile when he saw him playing a game. “Nothing. Nice.” 

Youngjae looked down in time to see himself die. “I – there wasn’t anything I could do –”

“I know,” Jongup said, resting his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. “I need you anyway. Come with me.” He stood as he spoke, balancing on the balls of his feet as he waited for Youngjae to stand. Despite his clear anticipation, Jongup seemed calmer than when he’d asked Youngjae to follow him yesterday.

On his laptop, bright flashing letters prompted Youngjae to respawn somewhere, to restart and try again. He had unlimited chances to win, if only he had the time.

Youngjae shut the lid.

“What’s up?” He hesitated to ask, almost positive he’d dislike the answer. Youngjae had racked his brains for how to handle Hana’s kidnapping and come up blank. 

If he told Daehyun, he’d try and kill Jongup. Not to mention, Jongup wouldn’t trust Youngjae anymore.

It should’ve been the last of his worries, but Youngjae didn’t want to lose Jongup because of this. If he went to Himchan or Yongguk or Daehyun, what would happen?

He’d seen how Jongup handled betrayal. Youngjae didn’t want to end up like Junhong, locked in an ebb-and-flow of kinda-maybes with Jongup.

If he convinced Jongup to stop or convinced Daehyun to not obey whatever Jongup ordered him to do, everything would go back to normal. Maybe if he got Daehyun to choose them over Hana, Jongup would even lighten up around him.

“Himchan’s meeting with Yunho,” Jongup said. “Daehyun’s following.”

Youngjae jumped up, the realization that the time had come burying the mess of emotions rattling around his head. “You think he’ll kill him?” He followed Jongup into the darkness outside. The sun had set sooner than he'd expected; Youngjae wasn't ready for the days to be so short.

“We’ll see.” Jongup led the way to his car, his pace fast but under control. Youngjae frowned as Jongup moved to the driver’s seat. Clearly, he’d driven there, but Youngjae didn't know whether he'd healed enough for it to be safe.

He told Jongup that, but Jongup shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m better.” When Youngjae didn’t agree, he continued, "really. I’m almost a hundred percent again.” 

Rather than answering, Youngjae got in the car. He sat down and turned to look at the driver's side before Jongup got in, his gaze heavy and bordering unsure as he watched Youngjae. He settled, clearing his throat and started the car. Something looked different about it, though Youngjae couldn’t tell what.

It took until they stopped at a red light for Youngjae to notice the 'Seoul' ornament had disappeared. 

“So – Junhong?” Youngjae asked, glancing over to survey Jongup’s reaction. His mouth hardened into a line, and he didn't even glance at Youngjae as the streetlights flashed in their eyes. He said nothing. “You know what happened isn’t his fault.”

“Right.” Jongup’s tone cut the conversation off, and Youngjae fell silent, splaying one of his hands open across his leg. He tightened his fingers until they hyperextended before closing his hand into a fist. Youngjae had a greater appreciation for fingers now, considering how easily Hana lost hers.

“Even if Daehyun kills Yunho, you won’t kill Hana, right?”

Jongup didn't answer immediately. “I’ll kill Daehyun.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Youngjae’s voice wanted to tremble, and it took him clearing his throat to prevent it from happening.

Jongup shook his head, shooting a short glare at Youngjae. “Why does it matter?”

“She’s innocent.” His nose had a big bruise on it from Hana punching him, and Youngjae had no idea what he'd tell Daehyun if he asked what caused it.

Jongup scoffed, tightening his hands on the wheel. “She makes Daehyun disloyal. It’s her fault these things happen.”

“What things?” Youngjae asked. “Jongup, you’re not making sense.”

He laughed, bitter and too loud for the closed vehicle. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Jongup –”

“Shut up, Youngjae. I wouldn’t’ve brought you if I knew you’d be this annoying.” 

He should be quiet. Youngjae didn’t want Jongup to stop including him in his plans - but he couldn’t sit still and watch Jongup push and pull at Daehyun like a cat toying with a mouse. “Why did you bring me? You know I don’t want you to do this.”

Jongup didn’t answer, and the air between them grew more awkward. Youngjae dropped it. For now.

Daehyun would kill Yunho. Youngjae didn’t want to take Hana’s words for it, but whatever he thought of her, he had to admit she hadn’t sounded like some girl drunk on love, nor did it seem that Daehyun deceived her like Youngjae had expected.

Jongup shut the car off and gestured to the side, and Youngjae could make out a vague figure walking in the dark. “Himchan,” Jongup said, muttering it under his breath so Youngjae wasn’t sure if he spoke to himself or Youngjae. “That must be Yunho’s car.” 

Sure enough, Himchan slipped into a car, staying only long enough to exchange papers with the man before slipping back out. He looked their way, and Youngjae averted his eyes, hating how Himchan's gaze seemed to burn through the distance like he could see them, despite the physical incapability of it.

Himchan walked back to his own car, footsteps echoing into the quiet night, and drove away, the quiet sound of the rumbling engine fading. 

“And here’s Daehyun." Sure enough, Daehyun's thinner silhouette came out of the black as he walked towards Yunho’s car, his strides purposeful and long.

Jongup leaned forward in his seat, as though he'd see more that way. As they watched, Daehyun rapped on the window, his gun in his other hand, and Yunho rolled it down.

The bang from his shot slammed into the surrounding area as though it were a tangible wave rather than pure sound. 

Youngjae flinched at it, not ready despite his expectation. Jongup jumped and scrambled to get out, his shoulder hitting the door as he miscalculated how long it would take his hand to find and open the handle. Youngjae grabbed his arm, and Jongup tore it out of his grip before pausing and looking back at him, the handle half-pulled.

“Not now,” Youngjae said. “You’ll never catch up to him.” As though to confirm his words, Daehyun already was driving away, the lights of his car growing smaller and smaller until he turned a corner.

No longer able to see him, Youngjae turned back to Jongup, who had gone very still, staring out the side-window so Youngjae couldn't see his face. “He did it,” he said. The initial anger had faded. Youngjae got the feeling that on some level, Jongup had thought Daehyun wouldn’t do it, that for all his doubts, he’d wanted Daehyun to remain loyal to them. “He really did it.”

Youngjae grabbed his hand, trying to give him comfort. Jongup clenched it into a fist, breathing erratic and fast, as though he’d sprinted rather than drove there.

“I’m going to kill him. I’ll – he – I’m going to fucking kill him.” Jongup’s words stuttered, but he remained still, a pseudo-calmness about him. Youngjae ran his fingers over the back of Jongup’s hand.

“Calm down,” he tried. 

The wrong thing to say. Jongup whipped around to face him. “I’m – calm down? Youngjae – he just – he just betrayed us. He killed Yunho and – and for her! For her.” Jongup’s eyes grew even wider. “I’m going to kill them. Both of them. You can’t stop me.”

“Jongup –” Youngjae began, but Jongup shook his head, the motion rough and violent.

“Get out.” Jongup stared at Youngjae with almost unfocused eyes, still shaking his head. “You can’t stop me. Get out,” he said.

“You wanted me to come,” Youngjae said. “Do you really want me to leave?”

At first, Youngjae thought he’d majorly miscalculated, that Jongup would say he did and force him to leave. But Jongup’s glare softened and even as he remained tense and poised for an attack which wouldn’t happen, the aggression faded. “You can’t stop me. I won’t let anyone ruin this,” he said. “Not – not even you.”

“Ruin what?”

“What we have,” Jongup said. He squeezed Youngjae's hand so hard Youngjae had to bite his cheek. The pressure increased until he thought Jongup would break something in his hand, but right as it crossed towards unbearable, blood from Youngjae’s bitten cheek staining his tongue, Jongup loosened his grip. “It’s okay now. We’re okay. I won’t let anyone mess it up.” 

What did it use to be like that this – Jongup and Junhong hardly speaking and Jongup lying to Himchan and Yongguk – was okay and something to not change? Youngjae didn’t want to think much about it. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Youngjae asked. “There have to be better ways to prove Daehyun’s loyalty.”

Jongup looked painfully unsure when he met Youngjae’s eyes, but he hardened before Youngjae could speak. “He killed Yunho.”

“Don’t kill him for this,” Youngjae said, forcing himself to stay still and not engage in any nervous habits. “He shouldn’t’ve killed him, but it doesn’t mean he’s not loyal.”

Jongup raised an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what that means.” 

“You’ve killed informants before too,” Youngjae said. “That wasn’t too long ago.”

“That was different. Hayoung hadn’t –”

“Is it really?” Youngjae countered. “Give Daehyun another chance. He’s loyal. You saw him with Sihwan! He saved our lives, Jongup.” 

Finally, Jongup nodded. “But how?” he asked. “Who?”

“Do you really need to threaten a person?” That would get messy fast. He worried it would end with one of them dead.

“What else?” Jongup said. “How else do we test him?”

But Youngjae didn’t know. He shook his head, his mouth a thin frown. 

Jongup raised a finger to point at him. “See? There’s nothing. We need to do this. But who?” His voice dropped as he narrowed his eyes, thinking. 

“Me?” If Daehyun came for him, Youngjae could stop him. Daehyun would hesitate before killing him, right? “If he’s willing to attack me then he’d hurt any of us.”

Jongup shook his head. “No. No, Daehyun could kill you really easily if he wanted to, and I won’t risk it.”

Youngjae didn’t disagree with Jongup’s assessment.

“Can’t do me either,” Jongup said, staring out the window. “He’d kill me no matter what.”

“Junhong?” Daehyun cared the most about Junhong. He, too, was almost family to Daehyun, even if that hadn’t meant what Youngjae thought.

Jongup stiffened. “No.” His voice was hard, definite. “Not Junhong. I’ll think about it. Maybe Himchan.” He looked around the car before glancing back at the clock. “I should get you back.” It was clear he didn’t want to go.

“Let’s sit here for a little.” 

With the streetlight catching in Jongup’s eyes and making them glimmer, and the dim light creating deep shadows on his face and leaving most of his body in the darkness, Jongup looked beautiful. He had a stain from whatever he’d eaten earlier that night still on the corner of his lip.

Youngjae had never been in destiny, but watching Jongup gave him the feeling that they’d stepped into something pre-determined, that fate would shove and tear at them until it destroyed everything Youngjae had. 

Caught in a tangle between Jongup, Daehyun, and everything else he didn’t understand, he got the feeling he was trying to follow a map as it was drawn, plunging into the unknown only to find out what it all meant after it happened.

“What’s wrong?” Jongup asked, his voice a shock after the sound of silence. Youngjae’s jaw shook, and emotion stung his throat until he couldn’t speak. He pressed his hand against his face, trying to keep calm. “Youngjae, please,” Jongup said. “Please don’t cry.” He took Youngjae’s hand, the same one he’d bruised earlier, and held it like something precious.

But the tears wouldn’t come anyway. Youngjae didn’t have time to cry. No matter what he did, he wouldn’t let this ruin what he thought he’d found here. Things had finally started looking up. Yeah, if he spent too long thinking about morals, things got... confusing, but Youngjae trusted Himchan and Yongguk to do what they believed was best.

Youngjae had watched what happened when his life fell apart and people he thought of as friends abandoned him. His own family hadn’t reached out to him, had let him end up here.

He hadn’t fought it, hadn’t tried to force them to take him back. Youngjae had shown strength and kept moving forward. His actions had earned him the scar across his face, a warrant for his arrest, and people he trusted to stick by him if anything happened. 

They had lied to his face and used him, but they’d also built him from almost nothing and taught him to survive.

“I have something to do now, but after I’ll stay with you,” Jongup said, his promise hanging in the air between them. He reached out and mimed Youngjae’s action from the day before, raising Youngjae’s chin so their eyes met. Youngjae’s shoulders quivered with silent gasps and broken exhales, but no sound left his lips and no tears ran from his eyes.

He nodded and curled into himself, crunching over in his seat as he omitted his own plans.

Youngjae wouldn't go to sleep, not before he found Daehyun.

And just like that, the conversation stopped, and neither spoke. Jongup drove him back, and Youngjae nodded goodbye to him when he pulled up at the office.

Taking shuddering breaths and trying to rub the goosebumps from his arms, he walked over to the adjunct warehouse, going inside and climbing the stairs to Hana’s room.

“Hana?” He rapped on the door with his knuckles. “I need to ask you something.” She didn't immediately answer, and he knocked harder.

“Youngjae?” Her voice sounded muffled through the thick wood. “What happened? Why are you here?”

“I need to find Daehyun. Where would he go if something bad happened? Where is he?”

Hana smacked the door from the inside, making Youngjae jump. “Let me out, and I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t have the key. I need to know where he is!”

“Fuck you.”

Youngjae tapped his fingers against the door, setting his jaw. His nose still stung. “You need to trust me. I want you both alive, but I need to know where Daehyun is now.” As her silence stretched longer, Youngjae dropped his pride. “Please, Hana.”

“What happened?” she asked, her wariness evident even without him seeing her. Youngjae rested his forehead against the door.

There was no point in withholding information. “He killed our informant, and Jongup plans on telling him to kill one of us next. I need to make sure he won’t. Hana, please. This is my last chance to stop him.”

He nearly gave up on her when she spoke again, so quiet Youngjae could barely make it out even with his ear against the door. “There’s a bar he likes. He goes there a lot when he needs a break from everything.” 

“What’s it called? Do you know?”

"Grotto's.”

“I know it,” he said. “Thank you.” He didn’t, but it was a quick google search away.

And with that, Youngjae left. Hana said something else, but he couldn't make out the words without his ear against the door. 

Once outside, Youngjae fiddled with his phone, finding the bar. It was only a couple miles from him. Sighing, he slipped a mask and a jacket which could pass for decent in a pinch on and started walking. The cold fall wind gusted around him, tossing his hair around and making him shiver, even with the jacket. 

The walk didn’t take long with his pace, and soon Youngjae stepped into the bar area. He spotted Daehyun immediately, watching as Daehyun drained a shot and tapped the bar for another. Already, he sat slumped in his seat; Youngjae had no doubt he'd been drinking for a while.

Above the bar, the televisions proclaimed some soccer game, and half the nearly-empty bar cheered over a goal as Youngjae got close to Daehyun. The dark wood counter and walls gave the room a melancholic, calm appearance. Youngjae understood why Daehyun had come here rather than go to the club they owned.

“Daehyun?” Youngjae walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder. His mask muffled his voice, but Daehyun still spun around as though Youngjae had yelled in his ear. He balanced himself with a heavy hand against the bar.

“Youngjae!” Daehyun’s voice sounded relatively clear, but his slow blinking and the way he extended a hand and pushed it hard against Youngjae’s chest betrayed his state. “Shouldn’t you be with Jongup?”

“What?”

“Jongup,” Daehyun said. His hand moved up Youngjae’s chest to rest on his shoulder, pulling Youngjae towards him as though Youngjae’s problem had been he couldn’t hear Daehyun.

“I – I don’t know,” Youngjae said, not expecting the question. "How are you?"

Daehyun shook his head and didn't answer. 

"Daehyun," Youngjae said, repeating himself. "Are you okay?"

“You're soft,” Daehyun said. All five of his fingers spread warmth across Youngjae’s neck and sickness bubbled in Youngjae’s stomach as Hana’s bloody hand flashed before his eyes. Daehyun’s eyes were earnest in a way Youngjae hadn’t seen before. “And your hugs are good.”

“Thanks?” Youngjae shrugged his shoulder, trying to get Daehyun to let go. He didn’t, moving his hand up to Youngjae’s face to poke at his cheeks. “Listen, Daehyun –” Youngjae tried to ignore his touches, trying to pull away onto to jump back and keep Daehyun on the stool when he tried to pursue him.

“Your hair’s all soft too,” Daehyun said. “Hana’s is soft too.” To Youngjae’s dismay, tears were building in Daehyun’s eyes. “I’m not supposed to say that.” The tears dripped down his face, and he blinked red, teary eyes up at Youngjae. “Not telling you anything.” He turned his head like that would get rid of Youngjae. His hand stayed on Youngjae's shoulder.

“You can tell me, Daehyun.” Youngjae watched him and felt pity. He let Daehyun’s hand continue to brush through his hair, too rough. Daehyun shook his head, and the sharp motion nearly sent him falling from the chair. Youngjae steadied him. “We need to talk anyway.”

“No, no,” Daehyun said. “Noo. Can’t talk to you.”

“Why not?” Youngjae grabbed a seat next to him and ordered a drink. Daehyun refused to look at him, and Youngjae had already taken his first sip when he finally looked up again. “Why not?” he repeated.

“She’ll die. Can’t let her die.” He shook his head so hard Youngjae thought he might tip off the chair.

Youngjae reached out for him, lest he fall, but Daehyun grabbed his hand and pulled it against his chest. “I can help you,” Youngjae said. 

It was funny watching him. Youngjae had never seen Daehyun in such a vulnerable position. Even with Sihwan, he’d kept his overall composure, only revealing his anxiety in subtle ways. Now, he clutched Youngjae’s hand to his chest as though he’d fall apart if he let go

Was this really Daehyun? Under every layer, he was a man who would do anything for Hana, no matter the strange aspects of their relationship, and who took comfort from physical contact. The exact opposite of the image he attempted to convey.

Daehyun had once told him he loved acting. How much of his personality was built on it?

Himchan and Yongguk weren’t stupid. If they didn’t trust Daehyun, they wouldn’t let him work with them. Only a little while ago, Youngjae had heard Himchan offer Daehyun help, not only treating him like a friend but also ignoring how he tried to brush them away.

Later, Youngjae had done the same thing when he grabbed Daehyun’s hand, and Daehyun had responded with more loyalty towards him than Youngjae ever expected.

Daehyun tore him from his thoughts when he pulled his drink over and took a long gulp of it.

“No, that’s enough,” Youngjae said, taking it. He’d ordered something with a decent burn to it, and the amount Daehyun drank suggested he couldn’t taste much anymore. 

Youngjae didn't dare tell Daehyun everything now, not with him in this state, which meant there wasn’t much he could do other than get Daehyun somewhere he could crash and talk to him in the morning.

Youngjae grabbed him when he went to order another drink. “Time to leave,” he said. Daehyun didn’t put up a fight, instead leaning against Youngjae as he paid for both their tabs, got a bottled water for Daehyun, and helped him walk through the bar.

“Come with me?” Daehyun’s hopeful eyes turned to look at Youngjae, nearly making himself fall as he took vital effort away from putting one foot in front of another.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Youngjae said. He didn't want to go to Daehyun's apartment again.

“Please?” Daehyun moved outside, staring at him with this pathetic, pleading expression on his face.

Youngjae sighed, pulling out his phone and calling a taxi. He could take Daehyun back to where he stayed. “Okay.”

Daehyun sank to the curb, trailing his finger through the dirt. Youngjae finished the call and moved next to him, sitting down beside him. Even with the expectation Daehyun would slide closer, Youngjae wasn’t prepared for him to drape himself over him.

“Wait,” he said, pushing Daehyun off. He pressed the water bottle into Daehyun’s hands. “Drink that.” Daehyun looked down at it, and Youngjae leaned away from him as he raised it.

He took a sip, spilling some down his mouth and onto his shirt. Youngjae tried to quell the pity rising in him, as Daehyun collapsed in on himself and curled his shoulders forward, wrapping his hands around the bottle.

Daehyun slid closer again and leaned into his shoulder as he took sporadic sips of water. Some ran down Youngjae’s shirt. In the cold night, the last thing Youngjae wanted was to get wet, but he said nothing.

“Glad you’re here,” Daehyun said, mumbling barely comprehensible words into his shoulder. “Didn’t think you would.”

Youngjae nodded, unsure how to respond. He pretended to play with the dirt on the pavement in front of them. The taxi drove up, and Youngjae pulled Daehyun to his feet, helping him into the back of it. Nodding a greeting at the driver, Youngjae gave him an address about a block away from the old office.

The motion of the car didn’t treat Daehyun well, and the driver shot nervous looks at him in the mirror, no doubt thinking he’d throw up inside. He made it, but only just, heaving and coughing once or twice before Youngjae could pull him out of the car. Daehyun shook his head, sucked in a breath when he had a brief reprieve. “I’m gonna –” And Youngjae had to jump back to avoid his shoes getting splattered.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes to walk the couple blocks back, dealing with Daehyun’s insistence he could walk while he stumbled all over the sidewalk.

Twice, Youngjae grabbed him to prevent him falling into the street, but as it was, Daehyun made it back in one piece and after another bout of throwing up. Youngjae left him on the couch to get him more water, and when he returned Daehyun pulled at him until he sat next to him.

He’d fallen silent a while ago, only shaking his head if Youngjae tried to talk with him. Youngjae nudged him with his shoulder, and Daehyun groaned, burying his face in further. He moved his face back and forth on Youngjae's shirt, shaking his head. No. Daehyun wouldn't talk.

Instead, he moved away just enough to lay down, draping half his upper body over Youngjae’s lap. Youngjae ran his hand through Daehyun’s hair, and he sighed softly, pressing his head into Youngjae's hand. Only a few minutes after that, Daehyun’s body began to relax, finally going limp as he passed out.

Youngjae bent forward, grabbing his water bottle and setting it on the ground before he shifted away. Daehyun’s chest slid to the couch, and Youngjae grabbed a cushion to place under his head. He shifted Daehyun into a position where he wouldn't die if he threw up again and moved across the room. 

Taking a seat, he fished out his phone, which told him it was already the early morning. Youngjae frowned. Daehyun would take hours to wake up, but Youngjae couldn’t afford to miss him, not when he knew Jongup planned to give him another task.

Somehow Youngjae had to stop him from doing that, without admitting his own involvement.

If he told Daehyun the truth, he would get someone – Jongup or even himself – killed. Youngjae thought if they played Jongup’s game then maybe no one would die. Daehyun cared about them, at least to some extent. Youngjae couldn’t forget what he’d done the night they’d gotten Junhong back.

He didn’t want to imagine where he’d be without Daehyun. Jongup had taught him to defend himself and insisted he wasn’t ready, but it had been Daehyun who told him how to survive despite not being ready.

Youngjae couldn’t forget all Daehyun had done for him, and well - Youngjae didn’t want to test Hana’s promise that Daehyun would kill every one of them either.

But he didn’t know what to do. He'd watched a man die and spent a while with Daehyun, only to make no progress. Thoughts of his own failure weighed on his mind.

He didn't know what to do, and he only had one shot. This wasn't a game; he couldn't restart and try again. If he didn't stop this, people were going to die.

The door creaked open, tearing Youngjae out of his thoughts. He bolted higher in the chair, eyes meeting Jongup’s as he slipped into the room. Youngjae opened his mouth, unsure if he should defend why he was there with Daehyun, but Jongup only raised a finger to his lips.

He stepped over to Daehyun, and Youngjae’s heart thumped in his chest as Jongup leaned over him and pulled a photo from his pocket, which he slipped into Daehyun's hand.

He turned back, eyes cold and figure shadowed in the low light, and took a few steps over to Youngjae.

Jongup reached out and grabbed his wrist, hauling Youngjae to his feet and pressing a hand over his mouth as though he expected him to scream.

Youngjae let Jongup push him out the door without struggling. He forced him out the main door rather than into his room, not speaking until the heavy door banged shut behind them.

“What are you doing here?” Jongup’s eyes still had that wildness in them, and it brought unease rolling through Youngjae’s stomach.

"I live here.”

“Youngjae.” Jongup stared at him, and Youngjae caught the slight tremble running through him. He had to be exhausted.

Youngjae didn't break his gaze. “I met Daehyun at the club,” he said, only a small lie. “He drank a lot. I wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

Jongup nodded, dropping his eyes. When he raised them again, something had changed in his eyes. 

Youngjae recognized the desperation in them. “Spend the night with me?” He reached out for Jongup and grabbed his hand. Some of the tension fell from Jongup's shoulders, as though he'd been waiting for Youngjae to ask.

“Okay,” Jongup said. “Yeah, I promised you. Okay.” But he didn’t let Youngjae pull him into his room, instead taking his hand – fingers wrapped around Youngjae’s wrist – and leading him to his car. 

"Where are we going?" Youngjae asked. He got in the passenger side only to yawned when Jongup started to respond, making him cut off and chuckle.

"My apartment," he said. "Bed's better there." Youngjae should fight him on that. He had to stay near Daehyun, so he could warn him the next morning.

But he didn't have the words or the energy to lie to Jongup, to find a way to justify his want to stay. Youngjae nodded, but his heart raced, beating uncomfortably loud the entire ride. Jongup seemed to sense his discomfort, resting a warm hand on his thigh.

Youngjae stared out the window as Jongup parked in a small parking garage, despair growing in him and mixing with the devastation that stung his entire chest and constricted his throat.

He wasn’t going to catch Daehyun the next morning. If he spent the night with Jongup, it meant giving up on warning Daehyun until later. 

Youngjae's only consolation was that Daehyun hadn’t gotten the new message yet. Jongup had left the picture, but if he’d ordered Daehyun to kill one of them, he wouldn’t let that person out of his sight. But who would he choose? Youngjae wanted to think Jongup wouldn't risk any of them, but if he felt he could guarantee their safety, or that Daehyun would fail if he pursued them... Youngjae couldn't count on appealing to logic with Jongup.

They got out, and Jongup led him towards the bright lights of the complex. He used a card to swipe in the door, taking Youngjae inside and to the elevator. Youngjae rested his head on Jongup's shoulder as they went up, so exhausted that even the slight motion of the elevator made his head swim and his vision blur. Jongup wrapped his arm around Youngjae's waist.

He should insist that everything was okay, but Youngjae couldn’t find the breath for it. Jongup led him to a door and unlocked it, taking him into a large room, sparsely but tastefully decorated. A huge window stretched from the floor to the ceiling and spanned over a meter across. It showed the city below them, twinkling like the stars those same lights blocked them from viewing. 

Jongup led him by a couch and a large television. Youngjae could hear someone shuffling through something down one hallway, but Jongup took him away from the sound.

He pushed open a dark wood door and revealed a large bedroom. The tan bed had to be three times wider than the one Youngjae had grown used to – and much nicer than any he’d had since starting college. Youngjae stood in the doorway, not feeling welcome in the grandeur despite Jongup's clear invitation.

No doubt feeling Youngjae’s uncertain eyes on him, Jongup looked up. When he saw Youngjae, he moved back over and took his hand. “Are you okay?" he asked, murmuring the words as he pulled Youngjae into the room only to answer himself with a shake of his head. "Let me take care of you." His throat burned, and he couldn't speak, but Youngjae nodded, leaning forward as Jongup's hand trailed down his spine.

Gentle, slow, Jongup kissed him. Youngjae’s hands came up to grip his back, fingers squeezing with an intensity countering Jongup’s soft touches. Their mouths pressed together, and they alternated between long kisses and their lips lingering only a hair’s width away from each other. Jongup pulled at Youngjae's jacket, until Youngjae broke the kiss to unzip it and shrug it off, tossing it to the side. He reached for Jongup and unzipped his too, waiting as Jongup took it off.

He had an old gray t-shirt under it, and Youngjae could feel the heat of his skin through it as Jongup pulled him into yet another kiss. Youngjae's hands trailed over his back and sides and anywhere he could reach, finally coming to rest on Jongup's hips. He gripped them tight when Jongup pulled his bottom lip in-between his teeth, gasping as the kisses grew messier.

Jongup’s hands skimmed up his sides, pulling his shirt up and off. The cold air of the apartment made him shiver, and he pressed closer into Jongup, who was only too willing to tighten his arms further around Youngjae. His hands found Youngjae's ass and squeezed.

Jongup kissed him again and opened his eyes, meeting Youngjae's gaze. Looking at him from so close made Youngjae’s breath catch in his throat. His lips had swelled from their kisses, reddened and wet, and his dark eyes had so much in them Youngjae almost felt overwhelmed, until he remembered how soft the brown hair half-blinding him felt under his fingers. The deep bags under Jongup's eyes reminded him of the truth, of the clicking clock which moved ever closer to striking D-Day.

It hurt to breathe as it came rushing back. Youngjae had lost the chance to speak to Daehyun alone. He didn't know what he'd do, and he'd broken his promise to Hana - his hands tightened on Jongup's shoulders, pulling them closer until they were almost hugging.

Jongup didn’t understand what Youngjae thought - otherwise he wouldn't have Hana locked away and Daehyun on a wild goose chase - but he still let Youngjae cling to him. He didn’t understand, but he still pulled Youngjae to the bed and climbed on top of him. 

The slow kisses over his face coupled with Jongup's wandering hands and the way his thigh pressed between Youngjae's legs had Youngjae's heart speeding with something more pleasant than anxiety.

Jongup's lips traveled down his neck and all over his chest, kissing, licking, occasionally grazing his teeth against Youngjae's overheated skin. He moaned and shivered, grasping the sheets until his hand found Jongup’s hair, clutching it so tight it had to hurt him. The strands were soft against his palm.

Jongup moved down further so he could work Youngjae’s pants off him and returned to kiss him one last time, still slow and near solemn even as Youngjae tried to press as much of him against Jongup as he could. He rolled his hips and Jongup broke the kiss to groan, his breath hot against Youngjae's chest. Youngjae reached for him to remove his shirt, which Jongup was quick to oblige, leaning back and resting his weight against Youngjae. 

Jongup took another minute to stare at him, until Youngjae began to shift below him, hands grasping at the muscles of Jongup's back. He smiled at Youngjae's impatience, kissing him one last time.

Youngjae's hand found his hair again as Jongup moved downwards once more. He licked him through them until Jongup had to hold his hips down to keep him from moving.

Youngjae could see his teeth glinting in the low light as Jongup pulled his boxers down, his smile light on his face. When he lowered his head again, Youngjae watched with lidded eyes, his breathing going to hell and small sounds making it past his lips before he gave in and dropped his head back to the pillow with a short moan, his hand still tight in Jongup's hair.

The time blurred as Jongup continued, both fast and slow until it ended with Jongup’s naked, warm body curled up with his. His half-asleep, slow breaths hit Youngjae's chest, and Youngjae wanted to close his eyes again, to sleep with Jongup.

He tried, but it wouldn’t come. His heart refused to settle even with his exhaustion, the beat too obvious and only becoming louder as he tried to calm down. Rubbing his eyes, Youngjae settled himself with watching Jongup instead. Jongup's mouth dropped open as he fell deeper asleep, and Youngjae couldn't help but run his hands through his hair. He understood Jongup. He didn't understand Jongup.

He'd treated Youngjae with such tenderness that comprehending how he'd also threatened to kill him recently seemed impossible. Right now, Jongup had a girl he'd kidnapped locked in a cold, dark room, her wounds untreated and her boyfriend desperate to find her. As Youngjae tried to condemn him, Jongup sighed as Youngjae's fingers played with his hair and started to drool on his chest.

Mouth quivering until he pressed his lips together so hard they stung, Youngjae moved away and slipped from the bed. Jongup twisted in his sleep to get comfortable after Youngjae's departure, the sheet pulling off him to leave his back exposed.

Youngjae couldn’t resist trailing his fingers down Jongup’s back. Despite the scars on Jongup’s hands and the couple on his chest, his back was almost entirely unmarked. He didn’t move under Youngjae’s touches, and Youngjae had to smile at that. Every night they spent together, Jongup fell into a near-coma. Youngjae tended to be a light sleeper, but he was pretty sure Jongup could sleep through anything.

Which was why Jongup didn't stir even when Youngjae needed his phone light to find his boxers. Youngjae almost wanted him to wake up again, but when nothing happened, he fumbled with different doors until he found a bathroom. Inside, he surveyed his appearance. His hair was a mess Youngjae didn't bother playing with, and the deep bags under his eyes only reminded him of his own exhaustion. He wished he could sleep. 

Youngjae cleaned himself up, splashing water on his face and wiping down his chest and stomach. The washcloth he used got gross quick, and Youngjae hoped Jongup wouldn't mind, but considering he'd also have sheets to clean the next day, it couldn't be too big of a deal.

When he left the bathroom, he moved down the hallway to the main area Jongup took him through. Youngjae didn’t bother with lights, stopping in front of the window. The city’s night lights brightened the room anyway, so much they stung Youngjae’s tired eyes. Seoul stretched out before him. Buildings Youngjae recognized clumped with the more generic ones, marking out the same map he'd imagined being drawn as he followed a route on it.

Somewhere out there, Daehyun slept with a picture of Hana tucked in his hand. Youngjae doubted Hana slept, or if she did, it had been because she’d collapsed from exhaustion.

With the city arranged out before him like a postcard, Youngjae couldn’t help but wish he could see their future as well as he saw their playing field. With all his shoving and pushing, he hadn’t accomplished much of anything.

He didn’t know what would happen, but he couldn’t help the feeling that everything had fallen into order. The city line no longer pierced sporadically through the horizon. Six men stood shoulder-to-shoulder. When it sparked, the gasoline would lead straight to him, and he couldn't stop any of it.

Maybe he was overdramatic. Maybe.

His fingerprints smeared across the window, blurring the neon lights.

A low noise began behind him, and he spun around even as he began to comprehend the quiet words. It was one of the twenty-four-hour news stations, complete with a woman announcing how they had the quickest updates and best, most accurate news.

Junhong stood about ten feet from him, the bluish light from the television making him appear ghostly and pale in the darkness. They stared at each other. He'd forgotten that Jongup and Junhong live together, hadn't even imagined anyone other than Jongup here. Words bubbled up in Youngjae’s chest – justifications for why he was in his apartment so late, why he wasn’t with Jongup – but he gave up before any of them slipped from his lips. 

Youngjae wished he'd put real clothes on. He probably smelled like sex.

“You should go back to him,” Junhong said, his voice just above a whisper. “It’s late. You look awful.” The woman's voice filled the background as she talked about some crime or another. 

He didn’t want to go back, not yet, when he hadn’t even begun to figure anything out.

_“Authorities state there are no new developments in the possible kidnapping of missing person Kim Hana, a graduate student at the University of Seoul’s medical school. They ask anyone with information to call 1577-7716”_

“Right,” Youngjae said, abrupt and too loud. “I should go.” He started back down the hallway, only for Junhong to stop him again.

“Youngjae.”

Of course Junhong knew something had happened; Jongup had been acting strange, and they’d all see it. “What?” He played dumb, not sure what else to do. The woman moved on to report about a fire. Hana's kidnapping was just another crime on the list to cover tonight.

“Your nose is bruised. And Jongup’s face is scratched. We’re not stupid.” 

There wasn't anything to say.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

Too late for that.

Daehyun already had the photo in his hands. The threat had been planned, and Jongup wouldn’t stop until he’d determined Daehyun’s loyalty. Seoul stretched out before them, and Youngjae’s fingerprints smeared across the glass.

He couldn’t promise anything. Junhong left before he figured out how to lie and say he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cant believe youngjaes really out here leaving fingerprints on jonglo's fancy windows
> 
> also i apologize for the awkward youngup ;_; im a lesbian and i tried


	22. Relax, Said The Nightman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ruined it,” Jongup said, eyes gleaming in the dark. “You ruined everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to the warnings up top, please

“We know the layout of the building." Himchan frowned. “We need someone to go in back.”

“Daehyun?” Yongguk's fingers drummed against his lighter. “He’d be quick.” The purplish neon lights surrounded them, garish as they left the table with no shadows to hide behind.

“No,” Jongup snapped. “I’ll do it.” Youngjae shifted in his seat, his eyes frozen on Daehyun's empty seat. “Daehyun’s not even here.” He sounded sullen and dropped his gaze to his hands, avoiding Himchan and Yongguk's silent questions.

They shared a glance as Junhong continued to watch Jongup. 

“Okay." Himchan didn't look happy about it, but Jongup’s shoulders softened. Youngjae slipped a hand around his back and trailed his fingers up and down Jongup's spine.

“He’s seemed out of it,” Yongguk said, nodding towards Daehyun's empty seat. “Something’s wrong.” 

Himchan tsked, agreeing. “I’ll ask him about it next time I see him.” He gave no sign of knowing more than he let on, but the way his eyes flitted towards Jongup made Youngjae wonder if maybe he'd inferred more than Jongup thought. 

He let go of Jongup’s back and returned his hand to his laptop’s keyboard. “I can figure out the cameras.” Same procedure as last time - minus Yongguk and Jongup nearly dying.

But Himchan shook his head. “We need you with us for this, especially if Jongup won’t be there.”

Oh. Okay, so not the same procedure. Youngjae had thought he'd figured out his role, but the change blindsided him. He blinked, his mind overturning the shift. “We need some contact. Jongup needs to know when it's safe.”

“I can take care of myself. You won’t know more than I do.” Jongup's response was immediate and sharp as he leaned forward to address the entire table.

“No, Youngjae's got a point,” Junhong said. He met Jongup’s glare with an even gaze, showing more confidence than Youngjae expected from him. “Sihwan and Jihun used a Bluetooth, and it worked well.” Jongup's small growl at the mention of those names surprised no one, but Junhong didn't back down or apologize with large, sad eyes like normal.

“That’s – a really good idea, actually,” Youngjae said. “We could have the Bluetooth in case something happens.”

Jongup's hand dropped to rest on Youngjae's thigh, holding it a little too tight for comfort. “I don’t need it." Youngjae typed ‘bluetooth’ into Google, already looking at prices. It would be easy to buy one.

“Jongup,” Himchan warned. “There’s no reason not to use one.” With his light chiding, Jongup acquiesced, dipping his head with no further argument.

“So what?” Youngjae said. “Jongup robs them from the back, but what are we doing?”

He tapped his fingers against the table, Daehyun’s chair still pulling his attention even as he waited for an answer. 

“We’re the divergence." Yongguk's lighter bounced against the wood, making soft thumps. “We distract them, and Jongup goes in.”

“Are you sure it's safe?” Youngjae asked. “It seems soon to test Sihwan. What does Daehyun think?”

“He suggested it. They’re on our land; we’re not talking about Southside.” 

Youngjae nodded. He stole a glance at Jongup, who watched the hand he still laid on Youngjae's thigh. Youngjae scanned the table, unsure why no one looked particularly concerned about Daehyun’s absence. Restless, he grabbed the information sheets from the center, flipping through them again.

Jongup's eyes watched the sheets, but he shook his head when Youngjae offered them to him, looking in the other direction. "Is that all then?” Youngjae asked. “No more planning?”

“Meet here at seven tomorrow,” Himchan said. “We can –”The door swung open as he spoke, drowning out his last words as it banged shut behind Daehyun. The bags under his eyes had darkened, and he wore the same shirt Youngjae had seen him in yesterday. 

He took a seat, not apologizing and not offering an explanation. Jongup pulled the paper from Youngjae’s hands and slid it over to him, and his mistrusting eyes flicked from Jongup to Youngjae as he took it.

When his gaze dropped to the paper, Youngjae's eyes narrowed, his brow wrinkling as he kept an eye on Daehyun. Jongup had given it to him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard when Daehyun leaned forward and sniffed the paper.

“Daehyun?” Himchan asked, making him start and look over with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Of course." His entire body language shifted, becoming more relaxed and more like normal. He smiled at Himchan until his eyes crinkled. “Just been figuring out what to do without Southside.”

Fake. They had to know it was all fake. Daehyun’s eyes were deep and dark and didn’t even try to pretend nothing was wrong.

“It’ll be okay,” Yongguk said. He set his lighter down and leaned towards Daehyun, calm eyes meeting shadows. They were darker than Youngjae would've have thought possible in the garish room. “We’ll figure it out. Together, right?”

Of course. They were all family to Yongguk. With everything that happened and how they expended every effort to get Junhong back, Youngjae had almost forgotten everything about Yongguk.

Not to mention he wore jackets and long sleeves with the colder weather, hiding the scars on his arms. 

Daehyun met Yongguk’s eyes and nodded. “Of course.” He considered them family too, but family meant betrayal to Daehyun. The miscommunication left Yongguk near smiling at Daehyun. Youngjae's stomach rolled.

“I think that’s all we need,” Himchan said. “Seven, tomorrow, here. Okay?”

Youngjae nodded with the others, his eyes still on Yongguk. Junhong leaned over the table right as Jongup stood to leave, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“Hyung."

Jongup's face tightened. “What?” When Junhong didn't answer quick enough, he scoffed. “Spit it out.” 

Junhong’s jaw clenched, but he still responded. “We need to talk.” Jongup tried to pull his arm from Junhong's grasp, but he didn't let go. Youngjae wouldn't have expected Junhong to stand up to him like that. It impressed him, but he couldn’t afford to wait and see how Jongup responded, not when Daehyun had already darted out the door. He left, ignoring the pleading look Jongup shot him.

“Daehyun,” Youngjae said, trying to hail him down, only for him to spin around the corner and not respond. Youngjae rushed after him and reached the bathroom just in time to hear the door click. He leaned against the wall, watching the dark wood with intent eyes. In only minutes, Jongup would come out, and Youngjae needed to speak with Daehyun before that.

He had one final chance to stop Daehyun. If he failed, it would be too late.

Daehyun pulled the door open, his eyes on the wet paper in his hand and so absorbed in his thoughts he nearly ran into Youngjae.

“Youngjae?” He stumbled back after nearly colliding with his chest. “What are you doing?” Youngjae looked down, eyes unable to look away from the red writing on the back of their information sheet.

Himchan. He couldn’t make out the other word, but he knew what it said already.

“Daehyun, you can’t,” Youngjae said, his words rushed and accentuated by wide, fearful eyes. “You can’t kill Himchan.” Daehyun held his ground, eyes narrowing as he surveyed Youngjae. 

“This doesn’t involve you.” Daehyun's voice was cold and his words harsh. Youngjae scanned him for anything besides his apathetic resolve but came up dry.

He couldn't give up, not when so much was at stake. “It does,” he said. “Last night you –”

“Doesn't matter. You should've taken me back to my apartment.”

“That’s not what you did for me.”

Daehyun crossed his arms, half the wet paper ripping and falling to the floor. “And look how that turned out.” Youngjae could still read '-chan' on the remaining piece clutched in his hand. 

Daehyun went to push past him, but Youngjae blocked him, not letting him pass. “Please. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me?” Daehyun’s eyes narrowed. Youngjae stood still, hearing his own breath catch in his throat. “Then tell me Jongup doesn’t have Hana. Tell me you don’t know where she is right now.”

“I – what?”

“The picture!” Daehyun said, near yelling only to glance around and drop his voice. “You took me back, and no one else goes there! It's got to be Jongup and - and you. What are you playing?”

He shoved Youngjae, who stumbled back and used the wall to rebalance. “I don’t have her!” he protested. “I want to help you; I don’t want her to die!”

Daehyun struck the wall beside him with the palm of his hand. “Dammit, Youngjae! That just means Jongup does, and he’s dragging you along because you’re just like fucking everyone else here and can’t say no to him.”

“Jongup doesn’t have her.”

“Sure,” Daehyun bit out. Youngjae tried to move closer, wanting to prove his false innocence but unsure how. Daehyun backed away.

Youngjae tried again, reaching for his arm. “Trust me. Please.”

Daehyun moved back, avoiding his touch. “When have you ever given me any reason to trust you?” His voice shook as he spoke, and he cleared his throat. Youngjae watched him swallow. “Never. You’ve never.”

“Daehyun –”

“I’m going to kill Jongup for this,” Daehyun said. “And if I find out you’re also involved? I’ll kill you too.” And with that, he pushed by Youngjae and walked away, dropping the remains of the wet paper behind him.

Youngjae watched him go. Should he follow? Daehyun wouldn’t kill him for no reason, and Youngjae hadn't convinced him to stop. He still planned to kill Himchan. 

Youngjae didn’t know where to go from there, but Jongup made the decision for him, appearing in the doorway.

“Come with me,” he said. “I need you.” 

Daehyun had promised to kill Jongup and now planned to kill Himchan. Jongup stared at him, his gaze unreadable, but Youngjae caught a pleading note in his voice. He wanted him with him. Youngjae had a better chance of convincing him to drop this than convincing Daehyun to stop.

He had to try. “What now? Daehyun got the message.”

“I know,” Jongup said. “You tried to warn him.” Keen, narrowed eyes found Youngjae, and he met the gaze, his heart jumping as he realized Jongup had overheard at least part of their conversation. 

“Jongup…” Youngjae pressed his lips together as he considered his response. He set his jaw and tightened his hands into fists. “You need to stop. You can’t do this.”

Jongup shook his head. “I have to.”

“You don’t! Yongguk and Himchan trust him.” If only Youngjae could get him to listen, everything would stop.

Of course it wasn't that easy. “That doesn’t matter,” Jongup said, frustration building in his voice. “They’re – they’re too trusting. They want everything to be okay and don’t talk about things that aren’t, and I won’t let them die. I’d kill Daehyun a thousand times to keep any of you from dying.”

It was so clear Jongup wanted him to understand and agree that it hurt. Youngjae’s eyes burned with tears.

How could Jongup not see how pointless this was? Daehyun had saved their lives, and Jongup reacted by kidnapping Hana and burying everything under some ridiculous self-righteousness. His shoulders tightened, as - frustration? fear? anger? Youngjae didn't know what to call it - built up and exploded. 

Youngjae sprung towards Jongup, shoving his shoulder to press him back towards the wall. Jongup’s back banged against it with a solid thump, and Youngjae’s hand crashed against the wall by his head. He stared at Jongup with the same expression Daehyun used to look at him.

Both of them knew they were playing a game they had little chance of winning.

“Why don’t you trust him?” Youngjae demanded. “What’s so wrong about him?” 

Jongup froze, his eyes wide as he stared up at Youngjae. In his shock, he didn't even try to push Youngjae away, appearing to passively accept their positions. “He – he talks about leaving and Hana and he –”

“Saved all our lives. Where would we be if he hadn’t been there? Where would Junhong be?” Youngjae needed Jongup to understand this.

“I don’t care,” Jongup said, shaking his head. “It’s too late. If you’re going to be like this, I’ll do it alone.”

He was right, and Youngjae hated him for it. It didn’t matter if he convinced him to stop this whole plot because Daehyun had Himchan’s name. 

Jongup pushed him away, and Youngjae didn't fight him. “If he’s disloyal, he’ll get us killed. I’m doing you a favor.”

“And what happens if he kills Himchan?” Youngjae asked. “Are you really willing –”

“He won’t.” Jongup’s jaw clenched, his voice forced and his shoulders tight. “That’s where we’re going.” Despite his words, once outside he turned towards the other warehouse, following the path burned into Youngjae’s memory. The painted, bullet-riddled smiles mocked him.

Jongup unlocked Hana's door without a word. Inside, she scrambled to her feet, her eyes jumping back and forth between them. Her hands were free, as though Jongup hadn't bothered to tie her again, or maybe she'd gotten it off, considering the rope was lying on the table. The wrapping around her missing finger looked cleaner than Youngjae remembered.

Maybe Jongup took care of it, but Youngjae doubted that. Hana’s hair was clumpy with oil, and she still wore the same blood-stained clothes.

Did he imagine how her dull, blinking eyes focused on him for longer than Jongup? He had promised to keep her safe. Hana wanted to know whether he'd convinced Daehyun to play along with Jongup's game.

He hadn’t. Youngjae’s mind stuttered when he tried to imagine what would happen in the next couple hours, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

Jongup grabbed the rope on the table before pursuing Hana, who shrank back from him. Pity built up in Youngjae as he watched her small attempts to escape from him. She'd become weaker, her lips chapped and bloody and her motions sluggish.

He got a hold of her and pushed her in front of him as they headed further up the same staircase. In a low, dangerous voice, Jongup warned her not to make a sound, or else he’d kill her. Youngjae couldn't tear his eyes off her back, hating the way her hands strained against the ropes.

About three floors up, it narrowed, and Jongup passed Hana on the stairs, leaving her in the middle of him and Youngjae. Old, dusty signs announced roof access from the next landing.

They walked in silence until Hana slipped halfway up the flight. She let out a broken cry, her throat not able to manage more. Youngjae grabbed her, pulling her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched together with worry. Hana had jammed her chest against the stairs, unable to catch herself, and her breath came in short gasps.

“Like you care -" she wheezed before she could finish the sentence and cleared her dry throat so the words were more audible. "-asshole." Hana pushed him with her shoulder, and Youngjae backed off, despite her obvious weakness. Jongup stared at her, and she met his gaze, jaw locked and eyes cold. A grudging respect built up in Youngjae. Hana was brave – braver than him, at least. Her presence here proved Youngjae couldn’t stand up to Jongup, just like Daehyun had told him. 

As if she heard his thoughts, Hana turned to look at him again. Her eyes filled with hate, brimming over until Youngjae had to look away. She knew he'd failed. Of course she did. Hana knew Daehyun better than anyone. She'd known what would come of this ever since it first began. 

Jongup unlocked a door at the final landing. It opened to the rooftop, and Youngjae surveyed the area before them while Jongup seized Hana and forced her through the vestibule. She shivered in the cold, as the wind ripped at her clothes. Jongup brushed his hair from his eyes, but Hana couldn’t stop hers from beating against her face.

The area was small, not the whole roof, considering the ladder on one side, which led to a higher area. It was mostly bare, water from a recent rain lying in long, oval-shaped puddles that spanned almost the entire distance. 

Jongup motioned him out, still by the door, and Youngjae stumbled a few steps forward on legs which didn’t want to work. Hana moved towards the edge of the roof, looking over it from the only area which suggested people ever climbed up there.

A few wooden crates and a whole array of partially broken bottles sat in one of the corners. Jongup locked the door behind them as Youngjae tried to adapt to the cold wind. He wished he’d worn a better jacket.

Jongup led the way towards the corner. Youngjae followed. He moved on stiff legs, his eyes stuck on Hana as she peered over the edge. The image of her jumping ran through his head, and he lunged forward as though he could save her if she did it. Youngjae stepped directly into a puddle, grimacing as the water soaked into his sock. 

He looked at Hana, but she'd moved back towards the middle. She wouldn't jump; she didn't want to die. 

Jongup sat on a crate, his legs spread and his shoulders slouched. Youngjae stared at him and hated how casual he looked. He stole a glance at Hana, who had moved back towards the door. They'd both watched Jongup lock it, but Youngjae understood the desperate attempt to escape. Part of him wanted to do the same thing.

Jongup reached for a smaller crate near him and opened it. From inside, he pulled a larger gun than his normal pistol. Youngjae’s breath caught as Jongup loaded it.

He glanced up when he finished, spotting Youngjae as he hung in the background. “Sit.” Youngjae obeyed and sat next to him only to flinch as he switched the gun to his other hand.

Jongup looked up, a small smile curling over his lips. Youngjae didn’t even try to smile back, not even when he extended his now free hand around his back. 

He couldn't take his eyes off the weapon. The situation didn't make sense. Why would Daehyun try to kill Himchan when he knew Jongup had Hana? He had to understand the game Jongup played with him. Youngjae begged whatever was listening that Daehyun decided to play along.

“There’s Himchan,” Jongup said, nodding at a faraway figure cast out of the shadows by glimmering streetlights. Youngjae could vaguely make out his silhouette. “It’s time.”

Jongup stood, tapping Youngjae’s arm so he did too, and shifted the crate forward. He moved behind it, crouching and using the crate to keep the gun stable. Youngjae hated Jongup’s practiced ease with the weapon. From a couple yards away, Hana watched in rapt silence, large eyes moving between Jongup and Himchan.

“And there’s Daehyun,” Jongup said to himself. Youngjae barely caught the words. Himchan had paused under a light and leaned against the brick side of a building. Daehyun moved through the alleys near fifty feet from him, almost stumbling along and turning corners too quickly. 

“What’s he doing?” Youngjae asked, squinting through the darkness. He couldn't be following Himchan, not with how haphazardly he moved. 

“He’s following Himchan,” Jongup said. “He’s just – I don’t know.”

Daehyun wouldn’t have been that careless if he wanted to kill someone. He didn't even seem to know where to go, eyes scanning every alley along the way.

Youngjae's breath caught in his throat as the truth dawned on him. “He’s looking for you. For Hana. Jongup, he’s not following Himchan!”

Jongup shook his head, his attention taken by the gun. “Be quiet. He is.” He lowered further to ensure his aim. Hana had returned to the edge and the desperation in her eyes mirrored what he'd seen in Daehyun's. If he didn't do something now, Hana would. Youngjae needed to stop him.

“Jongup!”

“Shut the fuck up!"

The only option Youngjae could see was tackling Jongup, and he didn't want to do that unless absolutely necessary - which it would be in a second, or else Hana would do it. Blood rushed in Youngjae's ears, and he looked behind him towards the door and back at Jongup. No way out. He needed to do something now.

His eyes found the glass bottles, and an idea jumped into his head. Without taking the precious time to review it, Youngjae grabbed one and tossed it off the roof. It crashed to the ground, shattering loud enough that both Daehyun and Himchan startled and spun towards the sound. Himchan pulled his gun and started pursuing the sound, rounding the corner and almost running into Daehyun’s back.

Daehyun spun around, holding his hands up and pocketing his gun. After a pause, Himchan rested his hand on Daehyun's shoulder. Squinting through the dark, Youngjae could barely even make them out.

Watching them so absorbed him that he didn't think to pay attention to Jongup's reaction until he grabbed him by the throat. Youngjae made an unfortunate, strangled yell, and Jongup slapped a hand over his mouth, despite how the wind wicked his voice away and kept it so no one would overhear.

He went still, clenching his eyes shut. “Jongup, stop. Let me go.” Youngjae didn’t have the strength to fight him, at least not until Jongup forced him back a couple steps. His breath caught in his throat, eyes jumping open and hands clutching at Jongup’s arms. The edge of the roof was only a couple feet behind him. “What are you doing?” he demanded. Jongup didn’t answer.

Youngjae dared to look behind him, gaping at the sheer edge. His chest tightened, and he shook his head at Jongup, eyes wide and pleading. 

Jongup wouldn’t hurt him. Jongup wouldn’t hurt him. He repeated the words like a mantra through his head. Youngjae’s fingers tightened and locked in Jongup's leather jacket, but the rest of his body had little strength, trembling like a leaf.

“You ruined it,” Jongup said, eyes gleaming in the dark. “You ruined everything.”

If he wanted, all it would take to throw Youngjae off the roof was a small shove. He tried to force his fear down. Jongup wouldn't hurt him. 

“I didn’t,” Youngjae said, forcing his body against Jongup’s to avoid facing the drop. Jongup’s hands wrapped around his, and Youngjae closed his eyes. Hot tears dripped from under shut eyelids, running down his face. He made no sound, at least nothing they could hear over the wind.

This was it. 

No.

Jongup wouldn’t hurt him. 

Instead he only ripped Youngjae's grip off him, pushing him back a few more precious inches. He didn’t dare look behind him again, knowing he'd run out of space.

“Please,” Youngjae said, his eyes darting to the sides. He could move by him, but only if he forced him back. Youngjae didn’t want to attack him, not yet. Jongup watched with predatory eyes, but Youngjae knew him better than that. He'd regret it if he hurt him.

“You betrayed me.” Jongup moved closer again, and Youngjae wrapped his hands around his shoulders. The new position pulled them into an awkward hug, Youngjae clinging to Jongup for his life just as Jongup threatened it.

“I didn’t betray you,” he said, his words strangled as he spoke them only inches from Jongup's neck. Tears streamed down his face, cooling quickly on their path down. One dripped onto Jongup. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to help you.” He swallowed hard, tightening his grip. “Trust me.”

The wind told him the story of how it would feel to plummet downward, grabbing at his clothes, at his hair. Youngjae couldn’t stop shaking as it tugged him closer to the edge. He clung to Jongup as though he were a strong, stone pillar and not the person threatening him.

“You said you would kill Daehyun if he tried to kill Himchan, and he didn’t,” Youngjae tried. “Please. He knows you have Hana! He wouldn’t’ve tried to kill him.”

He stood in a puddle, and icy water splashed against his ankles as Youngjae scooched even closer to Jongup. Youngjae couldn't tell if he shook so hard it spread to him or if he trembled on his own. Jongup remained silent. 

“He knew you’d be watching. He wanted to look for you, so he followed Himchan.”

“Because you told him,” Jongup said, unsure. His hands dropped from his shoulders to his hips as he pulled Youngjae back enough to meet his eyes. “You warned him.”

Youngjae sank with relief as Jongup responded, but the tears still ran down his face. “He already knew. I tried to tell him not to follow Himchan, because he already knew not to kill him!”

Despite their proximity, Youngjae couldn't feel the warmth from his breath. The wind stole it away and stung him instead, leaving his cheeks numb and his teeth chattering. 

“Trust me,” Youngjae repeated. Jongup stared at him, conflict darkening his eyes. He ran his fingers over Youngjae's cheek, wiping water off it.

Movement from the opposite side of the roof caught Youngjae’s attention, and he dared to look past Jongup. Hana had found what looked like a fire escape – some sort of ladder leading off the roof. She surveyed it, tugging uselessly at the rope on her wrists. 

Without her hands, she couldn’t climb down. 

An idea occurred to Youngjae, a way to get out of this situation. His heart jumped as hope started to build up in him.

“Look at me,” Jongup ordered, shaking him until Youngjae’s eyes jerked back to his face. He stared at Jongup’s wrinkled forehead, and Jongup's mouth formed a thin line, his hands tightening on his hips. He pressed Youngjae back a couple more inches, and Youngjae's fingers clenched into his jacket again. “You don’t even look worried,” Jongup said. His nails dug into Youngjae's skin. “I could kill you. You – you ruined everything.” 

Youngjae didn't think he'd do it. Already, his heart began to calm, recognizing Jongup's hesitation. But the uncertainty still scared him, and Youngjae feared taking even a small risk right now. 

“Jongup, look at Hana.” His voice came out urgent, stronger than he felt and with more confidence than he’d known that entire night. Jongup kept a tight grip on him, as though he sensed the ruse.

But when he turned and saw Hana as she tried to figure out her escape, he released Youngjae and stepped away from the edge. Youngjae threw himself back towards the middle at the same moment his legs gave out. He sprawled forward, landing hard on his hands and knees. Icy water splashed against his face and soaked into his clothes. The cold left him gasping, his heart pounding in his chest, but Youngjae's limbs wouldn't work.

He closed his eyes as a small whimper escaped his lips, tears still falling down his cheeks. Jongup had almost killed him. When he opened his eyes, one of them dropped into the pool below him, spreading ripples through his reflection. The sight of his own eyes in the dirty puddle water made his heart jump in his throat.

By the time Youngjae managed to raise his eyes, Jongup already had Hana. She’d had nowhere to run, not on the roof, not with her hands tied. No chase had happened because she never had a chance. The sight sparked Youngjae into motion, and he stumbled to his feet, legs soaked to his knees and teeth chattering uncontrollably. He lurched towards Hana, needing to reach her, to stop Jongup from killing her.

Jongup maneuvered her into the same position he put Youngjae in so many times, except he towered over Hana, and she struggled. Youngjae came to a stop several feet from them. He didn't know what to do. Hana threw herself against Jongup, but her motions were weak and pointless.

Youngjae had learned to not struggle, had learned to accept Jongup’s threats. Just like the others.

Except Daehyun.

Youngjae's legs had frozen under him, his entire body numb and muscles stiff and tight from the cold. His eyes followed Jongup and Hana like a movie as the wind forced another tear from his eyes. He didn't blink, not daring to miss even a second. 

Hana tried to stomp on his foot, but he stepped out of her path. Before she regained her balance, Jongup shoved her, and she hit the ground hard. 

She let out a weak, croaking scream as her injured hand collided with the concrete. Sprawled on her back, she struggled to sit up, thrashing as much as she could.

Hana breathed heavy, chest heaving as she watched Jongup through the hair in her eyes. Jongup grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet again. He spun her around, coming behind her and pressing his knife to her neck. It glinted in the light, familiar in Jongup's hand. Youngjae had seen it so many times.

Her pleading, desperate eyes met his, and Youngjae's legs shook under him. Jongup was about to kill her, but how could Youngjae stop him? He stepped forward, clenching his hands into fists only to shrink back without speaking. Barely a couple minutes had passed since Jongup contemplated throwing Youngjae to his death. He couldn't try to save Hana, or else he'd risk his own life.

“Youngjae!” He barely caught her voice, but even the strangled cry for help pounded through his head. Hana had punched him, had looked him in the eye and promised she wouldn't need his help. What it meant for her to ask him for help - Youngjae couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd promised her to not let her die, but he couldn't move, his eyes frozen on the small gleaming light from the silver metal. It rested against tan skin and below a pale, scared face. He couldn't see her eyes above it, blocked by dirty hair. 

Jongup ignored her, and he didn’t even look at Youngjae before he moved his wrist. The motion was surprisingly small, but the light on the knife moved and then disappeared entirely. Gone. Youngjae had seen Hana's blood before but not like this. It poured from her body, appearing black in the darkness.

That's when the choking began. Hana's voice had nearly disappeared before, but somehow the harsh sounds became thunder. Her head lulled, falling to the left in Jongup's arms and rolling against his shoulder. 

It sounded like she was drowning, spluttering and coughing until black droplets flew from her lips. Youngjae didn’t dare look away, mesmerized as her limbs jerked in Jongup’s grasp.

It lasted forever, more and more tar-like blood spewing from her lips. Droplets struck Youngjae, and he stumbled a couple steps back. 

The smell hit him like a smack in the face. Strong and metallic, it hung in the air and filled his nose and mouth as though he were the one choking. He trembled, hands wrapping around his own arms. Words spilled from his lips, denial and assurances and a stream of _no no no._

He couldn’t see where the blood went, as it fell from Hana’s body and dripped from Jongup’s knife. It spread into the darkness and disappeared, fading away. Bile built in Youngjae’s throat as he imagined it in the water, seeping towards him. His eyes dropped, but the ground below him was clean. Had it diluted in the water or had it not yet reached him?

The choking grew weaker, more loud wheezing than real coughs. Jongup still held her on her feet, but it was clear she’d collapse without him. Still, her head rolled and her body shook. Was she conscious? 

Youngjae walked towards him as though in a trance. His eyes stuck on Hana’s body. Jongup looked up as he approached, and Youngjae wanted to know whether he cared about Hana's death. Did he regret it? Would he ever? Youngjae didn’t dare think so, not when a drop of blood stuck to his nose, masquerading as another mole.

Jongup scooped Hana into his arms, carrying her bridal style. Two steps later, he dumped her off the roof, flicking blood off his hands as she disappeared.

Just like that, she was gone. He didn't even hear a thud. Jongup turned and looked at him, and there was so much concern in his furrowed brow that Youngjae wanted to laugh. "Are you okay?" he asked. Youngjae's mouth dropped a little open, and soft wheezes came from him as he sucked breaths into a closed throat.

He barely heard Jongup. The wind carried Hana's voice into his ears, the image of her face burnt into his brain. Oh god. Oh god. He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head as the choking grew louder, until his ears echoed with it. The air smelled of Hana's blood, thick and metallic and poisonous. Oh god. He couldn’t breathe.

Unsure if the choking came from him or if he heard the echoes of Hana, he pressed a hand against his chest. His heartbeat raced under his fingers. Youngjae crumbled, hardly catching himself with his hands, blinded by wind and tears, but instead of icy water, he landed in something hot and sticky. It coated his palms, a shallow puddle, and the smell of the blood drowned him. 

His eyes burst open, staring at the ground under his palms. Red. It was red beneath him. He scrambled up again, darting forward to escape it only to hit Jongup’s chest. His arms surrounded Youngjae, wrapping him into an embrace. Blood soaked into Youngjae's shirt, and his grip constricted Youngjae's lungs further. No, no, no. He didn't know if he spoke the words aloud; he couldn't hear anything above the pounding in his ears and the horrible, gasping breaths.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Jongup said, repeating it over and over and over until it broke through. Youngjae shook his head and whimpered. It wasn’t okay. He struggled in Jongup's grip, the smell of blood even stronger as Jongup trapped his face against his stained jacket. Blood seeped into Youngjae's open mouth, and he coughed, gagging at the iron taste.

“Let me go!” Youngjae pushed weak, trembling hands against Jongup’s chest. “Let go of me!” He could hardly hear his own voice. His fingers smeared blood over his arm, and Youngjae scraped his nails down them, so desperate to clean himself he didn't notice he drew his own blood in the process. Jongup did, and he caught Youngjae's hands, immobilizing him the best he could.

Youngjae's vision swam, and he shook his head as hard as he could, banging it against Jongup's chest. His struggles turned rougher, until he thrashed in his arms, blinded by cold sweat and blood in his eyes. Mouth open as half-gasps of air reached his constricted lungs, Youngjae managed to lodge his elbow into Jongup’s ribs.

Now Jongup choked, coughing as he released Youngjae, who turned wide, dilated eyes on him. "Youngjae," Jongup said, holding a hand up and pleading with him. "Stop." 

Blood in his ears, the smell in his nose and mouth and burning his eyes, Youngjae could hardly see Jongup in front of him. He needed to get away, to get off the roof. 

He needed to get away, but the door was locked. Would Jongup even let him leave? He looked scared, watching Youngjae like he was a wild animal he hoped to tame. Youngjae’s gasps echoed into the night, pounding in his head, and his heart lurched its way against his chest only to move little at all, trapped in some invisible cage.

So loud. Every sound hurt his ears.

His legs shook, his hands wet with water and blood. 

“Youngjae,” Jongup repeated. He looked at Jongup and his legs went weak again. Jongup took a step closer, holding his hand out for Youngjae to take.

With a small whimper, Youngjae skittered away before he darted towards the same fire escape Hana couldn’t climb down. He slipped in the blood, nearly falling again as the hot, thick liquid squished like water in his shoes. His palm scraped against the concrete as he balanced himself, not daring to look behind him. 

His bloody, sweaty hands slipped on the rungs, and he found himself clinging to each one for dear life as the wind tried its hardest to force him to join Hana. Hair in his eyes and the smell trapped in his nose, he couldn't breathe. His mouth dropped open, an attempt to force some air down into his constricted chest, to force the lightheaded feeling away until he reached the ground, but the smell hit the back of his throat, and he gagged again. 

Hot tears burned down his numb cheeks, but somehow he made it to the ground. He pressed against the bricks, his vision darkened and swimming before his eyes. 

Youngjae couldn't afford to stop long. Jongup could still follow him, and he couldn't look at him, not now. The blood hung all around him, and the image of it running down the bricks and dripping off the ladder burned in his mind. 

He couldn't stay here. Youngjae ran, stumbling and banging his shoulder against the wall, panic drowning him. He needed to go back, to go to the other building, where he could clean the stench of Hana from his hands and legs and mouth.

A loud, hoarse cry left his lips when he bounced against the corner of a wall, and the sight on the other side made him stumble to a stop. 

Hana had landed in a pile of trash bags, but that wasn't what made Youngjae freeze, swaying on his feet as he tore his palm on the bricks.

Daehyun's broken sobs echoed through the alley, loud and building in Youngjae's ears. A whimper bubbled out of his throat at the sound. Hana's blood covered Daehyun's hands and he pulled Hana into his arms, spreading the blood over him. Great, broken sobs burst from his lips, stinging Youngjae's ears.

Youngjae wanted to run. He wanted to leave and never look back. 

A sound from above startled him, and he looked up, almost expecting to see Jongup staring down at him. Nothing. He couldn't even see the roof. 

But if he came down, he’d kill Daehyun. Oh god. Jongup hadn’t even planned to kill Hana; he’d wanted to kill Daehyun, but he got angry when Youngjae warned him about Hana trying to escape. Oh god. 

His breathing turned shallow again and loud, loud enough Daehyun had to hear them, but he said nothing and didn’t look away from Hana, his own sobs even worse.

“Daehyun?” His voice cracked, strangled and high-pitched. Youngjae took a couple hesitant steps towards him. He didn’t respond, still leaning over Hana’s mangled body. Her limbs flopped like jello as he held her, bones shattered from the fall, a big gaping cut across her neck.

Youngjae didn't try to keep quiet as he approached, but Daehyun didn’t notice him. He rocked Hana in his arms, lips murmuring words too quiet for Youngjae to hear. It was grotesque how her limbs moved against him, mush trapped under mostly intact skin.

Youngjae spun around, swinging his head side-to-side as he scanned for Jongup. Did he follow Youngjae? Did he plan to kill Daehyun?

He couldn’t leave Daehyun there alone. 

Youngjae crouched behind him, reaching out for his shoulder. His fingers curled back with hesitation.

Would Daehyun kill him?

Hana’s blood stuck in his nose and jammed down his throat, and Daehyun had to know what he’d done. He had known Jongup had her, and he'd guessed at Youngjae's involvement. Daehyun was one of the most perceptive people he'd ever met.

“Daehyun?” His voice still wouldn’t work right, shaky and broken. His vision tilted, and blackness curled at the edges. His gasps sounded louder than his voice and blood pounded louder than anything in his ears. Nothing was real. None of this could be real.

The streetlight above his head blurred like a star reflected in water. Youngjae leaned forward, almost falling, and grabbed Daehyun’s shoulder. His arm jerked, pulling Daehyun back from Hana, who he clutched tight enough that her deadweight almost overbalanced him. She dropped from his arms, and only then did he notice Youngjae. Tears burned tracks down his cheeks, his eyes swollen. A drop of blood welled on his cracked lips.

Daehyun moved to stand, his motions slow and overly deliberate, like a man expecting his legs to fail him. Youngjae stood too, only for his vision to go fuzzy and for him to stumble, nearly dropping again. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his vision go black.

Daehyun grabbed him to keep him up, and Youngjae’s head drooped onto his shoulder, too exhausted to thrash in his hold. Maybe Daehyun would kill him for this. Youngjae didn’t care.

Well, no he did care. But he’d lost all his strength already. 

He killed Hana. Or at least, he’d let Hana die. 

“Youngjae?” Daehyun’s voice cracked even worse than his, and Youngjae’s weak hands tried to pull Daehyun’s off him. He muttered something Youngjae didn’t catch under his breath and maneuvered him so he could lean against the wall. Youngjae's head rolled back and struck the bricks hard enough that Daehyun grabbed his head and smoothed his fingers over where he'd struck it.

Blinking open his eyes, Youngjae found Daehyun only inches in front of him. He started to catch the words in Daehyun’s mumbles.

_“Not you too. Not you too. No, no, no.”_

The words slurred together, and their meaning took Youngjae a second to understand, but when he did, all he could do was stare at Daehyun.

He made no sound, silent tears racing down his face. Daehyun’s hands pressed against his shirt, touching the blood stain.

Trying to judge Youngjae’s injuries. He thought Youngjae had gotten injured.

“I’m not –” The words died in his throat. He should tell him he killed Hana. Daehyun would kill him. Youngjae shook his head. “I’m – not bad,” he said. “But Daehyun – Jongup – you need to go.” He wasn't totally sure his own words made sense, as the tears continued to fall. His voice remained stuck at a harsh whisper, and it crackled from his throat. One of his hands brushed Daehyun's chest, and he sobbed when hot blood hit his fingertips.

Daehyun stared at him, not responding with any words. He cried too, and his crying was far from silent, full of gasping and sobs and everything Youngjae had never imagined Daehyun doing.

Youngjae’s hands pressed against Daehyun’s shoulders, too weak to push him away. “You need to go!” His voice cracked when he tried to raise it. “Before – before –”

Daehyun’s eyes turned back to Hana. He stared at her, wasting precious time. From far away, a bang echoed through the alleys. Youngjae whimpered. 

“Please, Daehyun, please just go,” he said. “You – you said you had plans. You need to leave now!”

But Daehyun shook his head. “I can’t – Hana – Jongup. I’m – I’m going to kill him for this!” Daehyun moved off Youngjae, who used the wall to support him. The tears still ran down his face.

“No, Daehyun – he wants to kill you. You need to - to go.” Youngjae could hardly put sentences together, the white noise in his mind smothering him.

Daehyun crouched in front of Hana once again, sobs becoming a radio silence. He ran his fingers through her bloody hair. The smell jumped in Youngjae's throat, and he coughed, a loud, racking sound which left him bent over and gasping. “Go away,” Daehyun said, his voice robotic. “Just – leave.”

He recovered enough to force words out. “No – Daehyun –”

“Get out of here.” Daehyun didn’t even turn around to face him as he said it. Youngjae closed his eyes and only kept himself standing with a hand against the bricks. Drying blood flaked off his hands, and when he looked at it, he saw it caught under his nails, in the crevices of his knuckles.

Bile rose in his throat and exhaustion pulled at him, but he couldn’t leave Daehyun, not with Jongup intent on killing him.

Not with Daehyun intent on killing Jongup.

Daehyun pulled Hana back into his arms and stuttered out promises to kill whoever killed her.

Youngjae killed her. He let her die. He couldn't stay here.

Ripping his gaze away from Daehyun and Hana, Youngjae ran, slow and hardly able to put one foot in front of the other.

He spent the rest of the night scrubbing blood off his body and hating how he still smelled it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a much brighter note, @Yoodoyoo made a spectacular fanart of youngup for this fic!! Check it out [here!](http://yoodoyoo.tumblr.com/post/171812150782/really-quick-lame-fanart-inspired-by)


	23. The Dominoes Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ruined it,” Daehyun said. His lips trembled. When he pressed them together, a drop of blood ran from the corner. “You ruined everything.”

_“Can you hear me?”_ Jongup's voice sounded twice, once aloud and once in Youngjae's ear. 

He took a second to register everything and answer, his reaction time considerably slowed. “Yeah, can you?” Youngjae raised his eyes and watched Jongup’s forehead wrinkle at his state. His eyes burned, fatigue pulling at him, and his hands shook the slightest amount. He had spent about three hours tossing and turning that afternoon before accepting he wouldn’t sleep after what happened and before their hit.

Jongup frowned at him, but he nodded. That was all Youngjae needed. “Good.” He ended the call, blinking hard at the bright phone screen. The exhaustion which moved sluggishly through this body needed to go. They planned to leave for the hit soon, and Youngjae had to be on his game for it. Otherwise, he had little chance of making it through unscathed.

"How are you?" Jongup asked. Youngjae shrugged, not sure how to answer. He wanted to hate Jongup for what happened, but it was a stupid idea. Since the day they met, Youngjae had known who Jongup was. Condemning him for murder now was ridiculous when Jongup had done the same thing he'd always done.

Youngjae had acted as the outlier. He let Hana die. Might as well have killed her. Blaming Jongup only concealed his own role, and Youngjae didn't plan on self-deception. He'd seen what that did to Yongguk.

Jongup’s eyes dropped, and when Youngjae followed his gaze, he found him staring at the scratches lining Youngjae’s arms. He’d ripped a decent amount of skin off himself in his attempts to get Hana’s blood off him. They had already begun to scab, red lines darkening and turning hard against his skin. 

Youngjae couldn’t think about it. It was all he could think about. He'd never panicked like that before in his life, and his memories of it were spotty, except for the sound of Hana choking as she died, and the smell of the blood as it spread towards him. Youngjae was certain he'd never forget those, but he didn't want to ever think about them again.

Jongup had this stupid caring look in his eyes, and Youngjae didn’t want to see it. He wasn’t allowed to comprehend Youngjae’s mixed array of feelings – guilt and shame and regret and the horrible feeling he’d one day not care about what happened anymore – not when Youngjae knew he didn’t understand it.

Jongup pulled him closer, and Youngjae didn’t have the strength to fight it. His arms were warm, and the steady beat of his heart against Youngjae’s chest calmed him. Youngjae’s eyes dropped shut, and his head fell against Jongup’s shoulder. Jongup rubbed his back. "It'll be okay," he promised. "It's over now." The words were barely whispered in his ears, meant for him alone. Youngjae bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a whimper.

“Where’s Daehyun?” Himchan huffed, and Youngjae jerked his face away from Jongup’s shoulder. It wasn't over, not until they figured out where Daehyun went. “He’s late.”

“Like that’s new.” Jongup loosened his arms as Youngjae twisted to face Himchan but didn’t let go of him, resting his arms against Youngjae’s chest and folding his hands together over his stomach. Youngjae’s face reddened as Himchan surveyed them, but they all had bigger things to worry about.

Himchan hadn’t mentioned running into Daehyun last night. Youngjae still wished he knew what they said to each other. Did Daehyun admit what had happened?

If he hadn't, that meant Himchan had let him go and decided to let Daehyun handle his own battles. Youngjae hoped such a decision wouldn't come to bite them in the ass, but he couldn't prevent the nagging suspicion that Daehyun would try something.

He didn't know what, but it wouldn't be pretty, whatever Daehyun planned - except that wasn't right either because Daehyun wasn't stupid.

Daehyun would make himself a lot of enemies if he killed Jongup. Ever since they’d met, he had emphasized how he kept his ties weak so he could leave one day. Yeah, much of it had been a front to keep himself hidden, but Youngjae couldn’t doubt he felt it on some level. Daehyun had some good in him, but, like Jongup, he'd shown his true colors to Youngjae. He couldn't expect him to act in anyone's best interest but his own.

While Daehyun cared about them more than he admitted, he didn’t have the same loyalty binding him like the others. If he killed Jongup, Himchan and Junhong and Yongguk would want revenge. Youngjae didn’t know if they’d go so far to kill Daehyun, but he couldn’t guarantee his safety either.

Daehyun had to know that. Maybe he’d just leave, give up and go. Maybe he already had. With Jongup’s warm chest against his back and peaceful thoughts in his mind, Youngjae relaxed for what felt like the first time since he’d learned of Hana’s kidnapping. "Can we do it without Daehyun?" he asked. "Or are we calling it off?"

Yongguk and Himchan shared an uneasy look. They put more weight on Youngjae's question than he'd expected, as if they too believed Daehyun wouldn't arrive at all. Maybe he had told Himchan about what happened. Maybe Daehyun had told Himchan he planned to leave. Youngjae hoped so.

Hana's situation had ended badly, and Youngjae still had her blood on his hands, but at least it had ended. In that sense, Jongup was right. It was all over. For the first time in what felt like forever, Youngjae didn't need to go behind Jongup's back or lie to Himchan's face. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. 

Youngjae was so fucking tired of lying. At least now he wouldn't have to. Daehyun was gone, and everything was over. He'd be okay.

"We can't put it off," Yongguk said. His lighter tapped against the wall. "We need to go today. With Yunho gone - I'm not even sure we could get the information to do this again." 

Youngjae nodded. It made sense. He fiddled with his gun, adjusting it on his hip. There was an extra cartridge jammed in his pocket, but he doubted he'd need it. All the information Himchan got from Yunho suggested they'd find only three or four men on the premise.

Junhong frowned at his phone. “Daehyun hasn’t texted me.” Youngjae nodded. Of course he hadn't. No way Daehyun would text any of them, not after what happened to him. “What about you Youngjae? Maybe he texted you?” Junhong's big eyes met his, a small frown on his lips. Youngjae dropped his gaze to the table, where he'd set his phone, hiding his discomfort as though checking for messages. 

Junhong still thought Daehyun would turn to him, but he was wrong. No matter what Daehyun had said last night when he'd thought Jongup had also harmed Youngjae, Daehyun would blame him for Hana’s death too.

He shook his head, not even bothering to check his phone. Jongup’s hand gripped his hip and squeezed hard enough that Youngjae winced and pulled out of his arms.

"We're better off without him anyway." Jongup's words didn't surprise Youngjae. "We can't trust him."

"Really? Because you're the one who disappears now." Junhong set his jaw, crossing his arms and meeting Jongup's furious, narrowed eyes.

Youngjae's breath caught in his throat. Part of him wanted Jongup to admit what had happened. Bearing the burden alone had to exhaust him, just like it exhausted Youngjae, right?

Instead, he laughed. "Is that what you think?" Youngjae probably should've expected it, but Jongup's easy lie unsettled him. He jerked when Jongup slid an arm around his waist. "I've been with Youngjae." His face burned when Junhong's eyes dropped to meet his for a second time.

That decided it. He would tell them after. Youngjae couldn't do this alone anymore, and the minute it seemed like Daehyun would come back, he'd go to Himchan and Yongguk. They would know how to handle the situation. 

"This isn't the time," Himchan said, chiding them in his mild manner, a small frown on his face. “We need to talk more about -”

“I go around back, while you go in front,” Jongup said, his voice sharp. “We know it.”

Himchan nodded. His eyes trailed over Jongup. “We don’t think anyone will surprise you,” he said, as though they hadn’t all gone through everything together. “But we don’t know. Be careful.”

Something softened in Jongup’s face. “Of course, hyung. You too.” He bridged the gap between them, moving almost uncomfortably close to Himchan, who didn't seem to mind it.

Himchan pulled Jongup into a hug, and Jongup's motions were gentle as he reciprocated the hug. 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t all go in together?” Jongup’s brow furrowed as he moved back from the hug, holding Himchan at arm's length and staring at him. “I know it’s to rob them, but I can’t even get to you if something happens. I’d have to get out and go around the entire building.”

He directed the question to Himchan, and Youngjae saw the hesitation in his eyes as he prepared an answer. Yongguk spoke before he could. “I don’t want word to get out to Sihwan that we’re there,” he said. “Too much of a risk if we take long.” He raised a hand to Junhong’s shoulder and left it there. Junhong stiffened, likely because of how rarely Yongguk initiated contact with anyone other than Himchan. Despite his reaction, a small smile grew across his face. 

Jongup still frowned, no doubt unhappy in a situation where he couldn’t be on hand to protect them, but Yongguk’s reasoning made sense. He couldn’t argue, not when they were about to leave. Youngjae didn't like it either. He trusted Jongup's abilities with weapons, but one man wasn't hard to take down. Would Daehyun - ? No. Daehyun had hardly been involved in the planning for this. There was no way he'd go for Jongup during it.

“We’ll be careful,” Himchan promised him. "You too." Himchan's hand grabbed the lapel of Jongup's jacket, preventing him from pulling away.

Not far away, Junhong towered over Yongguk, but he still seemed unsure as he turned to him and pulled him into a hug. Yongguk relaxed into it, arms tight around Junhong. 

Junhong blinked back tears, staring forward from above Yongguk’s head. Youngjae understood. Bouncing back and forth between the two gangs and loyal to neither for quite a while, it wasn’t hard to imagine that Junhong just wanted everything to be over.

He felt the same way. Luckily for him though, everything with Hana had finished.

The outcome wasn’t what Youngjae wanted, but it would be okay. Daehyun had left, and things couldn’t go back to normal, but they could create a new normal instead. Youngjae wasn’t against that.

“Don’t take any risks today,” Junhong said, his voice so low Youngjae barely caught it. “We can’t do this without you.” Yongguk didn’t respond, only closing his eyes and pressing his lips together to keep them from trembling. He leaned further into Junhong's embrace, and Junhong raised a hand to the back of his head.

Youngjae fidgeted, the odd man out from the show of affection, and his eyes wandered in an attempt to not intrude on their moment. Himchan released Jongup and approached him, slow as though he wanted to give Youngjae time to pull away if he wished. When Youngjae stayed still, frozen and not sure what to expect, Himchan hugged him.

It took Youngjae a long pause before he hugged back. 

“Thank you,” Himchan said, once he relaxed in his hold. 

Youngjae pulled back to look at Himchan, the tips of his fingers trembling as they pressed lightly against Himchan's jacket. “For what?”

“We manipulated you into joining us, and you had no reason to help us as much as you have. You’ve considered betraying us before and haven’t. Thank you.”

“I – you’re welcome?” Almost against his will, he smiled at Himchan. His heart jumped in his chest, but Himchan seemed to understand, tightening his grip on Youngjae before letting go.

Youngjae almost couldn’t place the feeling in his heart – did it hurt? Was it good? – but it struck him how much everyone meant to him.

He still didn’t know Himchan and Yongguk that well, but he wanted to. Youngjae trusted them, and he trusted Junhong too.

Jongup made bad decisions, and Daehyun was gone, but Youngjae knew who Jongup was and had known what he could do since the day they first met. It had taken him longer to learn much about Daehyun, but even he couldn’t hide his true self for too long.

Youngjae wanted things to keep going, and it brought a lump in his throat. He’d lost his entire future and was thrown into a messy situation with people who threatened him, but somehow he'd rebuilt his life with those same people. After what had happened - his expulsion, the way they'd stamped on his future with a heavy boot - Youngjae had thought he had nothing left, but he had managed to create something here. His eyes burned with emotions he didn't dare release. 

He’d come a long way from the person who’d desperately fought time to pretend things wouldn’t change for him.

"Are we ready then?" Himchan glanced at his phone. "It's time." They'd planned on taking two cars, which meant Jongup would leave first, arrive, and wait for Youngjae's call before entering. Youngjae wasn't ready to say goodbye to Jongup though, not yet.

The others began to move towards the door, but Youngjae grabbed Jongup's hand. He caught Yongguk's eye as he headed out, but Yongguk gave him a nod. Youngjae guessed that meant it was okay for him and Jongup to take a second. He hoped so, at least, because that was what he planned on doing. Jongup watched him with a gentle, almost sweet expression, a line in his forehead betraying his concern. "Are you okay?"

No. Youngjae was certain he'd only managed to bury the emotions which had drowned him only hours ago. They would emerge again. "I will be," he said. "I just - wanted to make sure you're careful today."

"I promised I will be." Jongup almost sounded amused, but his eyes remained large and solemn. "I'm more concerned about you. This is your first real time working a job with us."

It was, wasn't it? Youngjae had counted the hacking, but this time he planned to enter, gun-drawn, through the front doors. "I'll be okay."

"I know," Jongup said. "Just - trust Himchan, okay? He knows what's best. Follow his lead."

"Of course." Youngjae didn't plan on making any decisions tonight. He'd done his best over the past few days, and it ended with an innocent girl dead and Daehyun gone. Should he condemn Jongup for that? It seemed like the right thing to do. Instead, Youngjae wrapped Jongup into a tight hug, which Jongup gladly returned. Judging people based on whether they'd done good or bad was exhausting. He couldn't do it, not now.

Sometime in the future, he'd decide some course of action to pursue, whether that be telling Himchan and Yongguk or speaking with Jongup. For now, Jongup's arms felt warm, even through their clothing, and Youngjae needed to just breathe. He'd had precious little room in his lungs for the past few days, a pressure constantly weighing on his chest. With Daehyun and Hana gone - no matter the outcome of it all - the hold on him lightened, even with Jongup's arms squeezing him into his chest.

Jongup held onto his hand as they walked outside. It all felt near ridiculously domestic, and prickles of warnings poked Youngjae's brain. He didn't let himself linger on them for too long. At least Jongup tried to keep them safe. Sure, his methods were... questionable and shoddy at best, but well, he'd meant well. Youngjae would deal with that later. 

Jongup didn't speak until they reached the others. “Are we ready?” He squeezed Youngjae's hand. Together, they looked at each other and nodded.

Youngjae had watched them go through this before, that time without Junhong and with Daehyun. This time Junhong was here but Daehyun was missing.

So much had changed for them.

Jongup planned to take a different car than the others, needing to enter the large warehouse from the back. He split off, leaving Youngjae to lean against the wall. The cold wind bit into him, despite his warm jacket, and he held back a shiver, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Yongguk moved into his line of sight, and Youngjae stopped, regarding him with curious, narrowed eyes. He saw the same intensity in Yongguk’s expression as when Yongguk looked at Jongup or Junhong.

Youngjae nodded. Yongguk didn’t need to say anything; he understood. His reaction made Yongguk smile, wide, full of teeth, and almost too big for his face.

Himchan’s expression was almost painfully tender as he watched Yongguk. When he’d moved away from Youngjae, Himchan got his attention. “You be careful today too, you hear? We need you.” He said nearly the same thing Junhong had, but his words still affected Yongguk, his eyes darkening even as he nodded.

It was true. Youngjae had listened to Daehyun condemn Yongguk and even Jongup had unkind words to say about him, but the fact remained that Yongguk held them together. He couldn’t describe it – hell, half the time Yongguk hardly even spoke – but Youngjae couldn’t imagine the gang without him.

Without another word, Himchan left to get his car. Youngjae focused on his breathing, hating how the cold tightened his muscles. Water vapor from his mouth caught the light of the streetlights, almost like smoke as it faded from the air. Junhong kept stealing glances at him, looking away if Youngjae tried to meet his eyes. Yongguk had moved to lean against the cold wall, eyes closed and lighter tapping against the brick.

“What is it?” Youngjae finally asked, watching Junhong’s eyes skitter away for the fourth time. His voice sounded testier than he’d planned, but he didn’t want to think about what he expected Junhong to ask about. They could deal with that later.

“You were with Jongup yesterday,” Junhong said, looking down at Youngjae. His hand tapped against the bricks, unconsciously following the rhythm Yongguk started. 

Youngjae raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore how his heart jumped in his throat. Not now. He needed time to think before he dealt with this. Already, the oxygen from his sharp inhale struggled to reach his lungs. “Yes?”

“What did he do?” Junhong asked. “He did something. I can tell. What did he do?” 

Youngjae had to remind himself to exhale. “Nothing.” His voice sounded hesitant, and Junhong’s eyes only hardened further. 

Yongguk opened his eyes to watch, still not speaking. 

“Youngjae.” Junhong said his name through clenched teeth, anger making him clench his fists at his side. “What did he do to Daehyun?” Youngjae had found it good that Junhong stood up to Jongup. Now, it felt not-so-good. He avoided his eyes.

Yongguk’s eyes narrowed, became sharper somehow. Youngjae wanted to hit something as he picked up the thread Junhong had pulled. They could do this later. “Daehyun threatened Himchan yesterday,” he said. “Did you know that, Youngjae?”

“No –” Youngjae shook his head and cut off when Yongguk moved off the wall to stare down at him. He took a step back, away from both of them. “Listen,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do now. We can talk later.” Youngjae couldn't do it now. He backed away another step, coming too close to the wall and jerking when his gun hit against it.

Junhong’s jaw jutted out, no doubt a silent refusal to drop the subject. Yongguk’s eyes lifted to watch Himchan’s car approach. “We’ll talk after this,” he said. Before Youngjae could let out a sigh of relief, Yongguk pinned him with his narrowed gaze. “Be careful, Youngjae. Messing with what’s between Jongup and Daehyun is like playing with fire.” 

The ‘you don’t want to get burned’ went unsaid, but they all heard it.

Youngjae’s eyes trailed down to his arms, where the burns covered the skin, under several layers of fabric. He nodded and looked towards Himchan’s car. What else could he do?

It was small and dark blue. His legs were crammed in the backseat, and Junhong looked even worse, his long body folded in ways that couldn’t feel comfortable. No one spoke as the drive began, and Youngjae fiddled with his dart, slipping it in and out of his pocket.

“Good luck charm?” Junhong asked, nodding at it. He still didn’t look happy with Youngjae, but Yongguk’s word was law. 

Youngjae started, looking down at it and slipping it back into his pocket. He hadn’t even realized he was playing with it. “Yeah, I guess.” Maybe Junhong meant the topic as a peace offering, but it still left anxiety swirling in Youngjae's chest. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. 

Junhong smiled at him, and yeah, definitely a peace offering. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Things like this – they’re scary for a bit, then it’s always fine.” Youngjae tried to smile back. He thought he failed.

And with that, they arrived. Himchan parked the car a few blocks away, and Youngjae called Jongup, greeting him and telling him they were about to go in.

 _“I’m outside,”_ he said. His voice sounded quiet but clear in Youngjae’s ear. _“You can hear me?”_

“Yeah,” Youngjae said. He sighed, following the others and pulling out his gun as they neared the front. “Be careful."

Somehow he could hear Jongup’s voice become more gentle even over the phone. _“I will. You too. Is Daehyun there?”_

“No,” Youngjae said, looking around. Daehyun was over an hour late. There was no way he planned to come. The relief flooding Youngjae felt so nice it almost hurt, his eyes fluttering shut as he mouthed a quiet thank you to whatever cared. He swallowed and gathered himself as they started towards the warehouse. “We’re going in now.” 

Youngjae pulled out his gun, echoing the others as they neared the doors. 

Yongguk met their eyes before he pulled one open, and the others trailed in after him. Despite the months of training, despite everything, Youngjae still felt woefully unprepared. He recalled the faces on the sheets he’d barely glanced at yesterday. 

Perhaps he’d kill one of them. The thought didn’t cause him the immediate horror he expected. If Youngjae were honest with himself, it hadn’t for a while.

These were drug dealers who worked for Sihwan, and that was that. They probably got kids hooked on drugs all the time, and Youngjae trusted Himchan’s judgment – if this needed to happen, so be it. The morality behind it all didn't matter in the same way it once had.

He just wanted to be able to sleep again.

Youngjae trailed behind the other three, who walked through the warehouse as though they owned it. He tried to emulate that, but his nerves were only too visible in how he jumped at every single sound.

“They should be here,” Junhong said, breathing the words in the quietest voice he could. “They’re supposed to be here.”

Himchan waved a hand, calling for silence. They neared the second room, and right as they passed into it, a gun clicked behind them. All four of them whirled around, guns pointing at the figure who'd gotten surprisingly close to them.

“It’s only me,” Daehyun said. “You started without me.” He looked awful. His entire body trembled, and the black smudges under his eyes had turned into a bruise-colored smear. 

Youngjae swallowed hard to control his own reaction, mouth wanting to drop open. He’d never expected Daehyun to return now, not like this. Maybe thinking he’d leave entirely had been wishful thinking, but now he sounded loud and surely had warned anyone around them of their entry.

Waves of guilt strangled Youngjae the longer he looked at Daehyun. He’d thought once that he had lost everything, but looking at Daehyun, he knew what he’d face paled in comparison. Youngjae had always planned on continuing. Daehyun looked ready to collapse and refuse to go any further.

He should’ve done more to save Hana. Daehyun didn’t deserve to be the victim of Jongup’s insecurities, but Youngjae hadn’t stopped it, had facilitated it.

Youngjae had let Hana die. He shook his head hard to expel the thoughts as they tangled in his throat and left him gasping for air. Not now. Not here.

“You’re late,” Junhong said, his voice only barely below a speaking level. “Again.” As though he didn’t notice Daehyun’s appearance.

Youngjae caught both Himchan and Yongguk staring at Daehyun, their eyes trailing over his shivering, exhausted form. He assumed they’d ask later, once they weren’t in the middle of a perilous place full of risk and people who would kill them if they could.

Himchan gave Daehyun a tight nod, gaze still lingering on him. They moved further into the warehouse, and Youngjae could feel Daehyun’s eyes burning into his back. His fury and his devastation made anxiety pile into Youngjae’s throat.

He didn’t know what to expect from Daehyun.

At least it would wait until this was over. If Daehyun planned on taking revenge, he couldn’t do it without Jongup here anyway. Did he want to kill Jongup but blame it on friendly fire? Youngjae doubted anyone would buy that, and even so, Jongup wasn’t with them. 

It didn’t make sense, but he didn’t have time to think about it any longer.

Youngjae’s breath caught as footsteps echoed behind them. The sounds moved through the warehouse, dull thumps of boots onto concrete. He turned to face them, gun already pointed at the door, but a glance at the others made him realize the footsteps came from both directions.

“Jongup!” he hissed, resisting the urge to grab the Bluetooth as though to guarantee his voice reached Jongup’s ear.

 _“Youngjae?”_ Jongup sounded worried. _“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”_ His voice crackled through a bad connection, garbled and warped. It hardly sounded like him.

Before Youngjae could respond, Daehyun moved next to him, turning to face them. He stared at them, seemingly unbothered by the footsteps growing closer to his back.

“Put your guns down." He raised his and pointed it towards them as he spoke, red-rimmed eyes narrowed and cold. “It’ll be easier that way.”

“What did you do?” Yongguk asked, taking a step towards him only to freeze when Daehyun pointed his gun at him. Youngjae stole a glance at Himchan, seeing he aimed his weapon at Daehyun. Okay. Youngjae swallowed his shock and aimed at Daehyun too. No one moved; no one breathed.

The footsteps answered Yongguk's question. Police flooded into the room, coming from both directions, guns aimed at them even as they bridged the distance of the giant room.

Youngjae stole a terrified glance behind him, watching them circle around, clearly prepared to shoot them down if necessary. His hands shook his gun, and he couldn’t help but breathe in fast, shallow gasps.

 _“Youngjae!”_ Jongup called for him, his voice echoing directly into Youngjae’s ear. _“What happened? Are you okay?”_

With Daehyun staring at him as the police forced them into closer together, he didn’t dare respond. Jongup yelled louder, until his voice pounded and crackled through Youngjae's head. He bit his lip as his ear began to throb. 

The four of them – Yongguk, Himchan, Junhong, and Youngjae – formed a tight circle, guns pointing out at the officers. Youngjae counted the officers, coming up with six of them in his vision and more behind him. Daehyun stood in the no man’s land between the groups. Youngjae didn't dare follow the barrel of his gun to figure out who he had decided to aim at.

“Daehyun,” Yongguk said, growling the name. His voice had dropped, becoming menacing and cold, and Youngjae hadn't even known Yongguk's voice could do that. “What did you do?” The voice sent an obvious shiver through Daehyun. Was he scared? Youngjae couldn't tell considering the tired, finished expression in his eyes.

Daehyun bit his lip. He looked almost unsure, until he regripped his gun and set his jaw. “This is for the best. Just put your guns down.” Despite how he'd gathered strength, his voice cracked, emotion roughening it. It sounded like he’d spent the last twelve hours screaming, and he’d wrecked his ability to speak. It was possible he had, depending on when he'd left Hana's body. “No one needs to get hurt.”

Jongup fell silent in his ear, apparently realizing his shouting wasn't making Youngjae respond. He didn’t know how to warn him, not with the police and Daehyun surrounding them. His eyes flickered around, desperate to find something that could help them. For the first time in a long time, Youngjae came up with nothing. 

“You betrayed us.” Junhong’s voice shook, but Youngjae didn’t dare move his eyes off Daehyun to look at him.

Daehyun’s eyes softened. “Junnie, put your gun down,” he said. “It’ll be okay.” He turned his eyes to Himchan and Yongguk. “They’ve got Jongup; you’ve lost already. Be smart about this.” It sounded as though he pleaded with them.

Youngjae’s lips twitched into a smile at the lie. Of course Daehyun didn’t know about the Bluetooth; he hadn’t been there the other night when they decided to use it. Himchan glanced at Youngjae, and he subtly shook his head.

Daehyun was full of shit. Himchan’s eyes narrowed. He looked terrifying, posture stiff and eyes hardened. His eyes focused on Daehyun, his grip on his gun calm and steady. He recalled Jongup's words - to follow Himchan's lead. Youngjae regripped his weapon and kept it steady, pointing it at Daehyun. 

The motion caught Daehyun's attention. Youngjae wished his fear wasn't so clear in his trembling body. 

“Youngjae, you’re barely a part of this. Don't do something stupid.” So had Daehyun not realized his betrayal? It didn't matter. Youngjae swallowed and cleared his throat so he could force words through it.

“You betrayed us,” he said, swallowing hard and trying to speak in a way he could warn Jongup. “To the police?” His voice went embarrassingly high and strangled with the question.

 _“Fuck!”_ Jongup swore so loudly in his ear that Youngjae flinched. It almost shocked him that the others hadn't heard it.

“You killed Hana,” Daehyun said. A tear ran down his face. “Insisting Jongup didn’t have her? Telling me to trust you?” Daehyun took a step back as though being near Youngjae physically pained him. More tears used the track left behind by the first, streaming down Daehyun's cheeks. “Was that her blood on you?” The question sounded as though it took everything Daehyun had to speak aloud.

Youngjae didn’t even try to answer; he had no answer. Daehyun’s dark eyes finished their judgment of him, and he pointed his gun directly at Youngjae. “Lay your guns on the ground.” He swept his gun wider. “All of you.”

If they obeyed, this would end with them all in prison. Youngjae would never see any of them again. He wasn’t stupid; he knew the case they could make against him in court. 

With the death of Park Taeseon and others on his head, Youngjae would spend the rest of his life in jail. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, gasping breaths echoing too loudly. Jongup yelled in his ear, but he couldn’t answer. Youngjae shook his head.

He wouldn’t let this destroy his life again. Restarting once had nearly killed him, but he’d done it. He'd risen from the ashes he’d left behind of his former life and managed to continue going, despite the odds.

Youngjae couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t lose his future again. Tears burned in his eyes as Himchan glanced around him and raised both hands, giving up. It was over.

Everything was over.

How dare Daehyun do this to them? Youngjae saw the game he played: he hadn’t wanted to kill all of them, but he couldn't take his revenge on Jongup with them in the way. Daehyun had everything planned. Of course he did. Youngjae had never hated someone so much in his life. He clenched his hands around the gun until his knuckles turned white, shivering with anger.

But the gun wasn’t his only weapon, and with the dart he still possessed an element of surprise. As Yongguk, too, gave in and lowered his gun, Youngjae leaned down and obeyed Daehyun. He used the cover to slip the dart into his sleeve, abandoning his more obvious weapon. Jongup’s flood of questions continued, pounding through Youngjae’s head, but he didn’t answer. 

He had no breath in his lungs, not with what he planned to do.

Youngjae laid his gun on the ground and stood again, seemingly defenseless. The guns focused on those who hadn’t fully released their weapons – the other three. 

Daehyun stared at Junhong, the only one with his gun still pointed at the police. "Please, Junnie. Don't make this harder on yourself." 

Daehyun had ruined everything. Yongguk and Himchan had spent years building the gang, forming a relationship with Jongup, meeting Junhong. In only minutes, Daehyun tore the entire thing to pieces.

Youngjae brushed the tip of his finger over the dart. He closed his eyes, and a tear dripped down his face.

Daehyun never knew about his dart. He had no way to see what would come.

“We took you in as family,” Himchan said, and another tear ran down Youngjae's face at the pain which Himchan couldn't prevent from seeping into his voice. “You needed us.”

Daehyun set his jaw. “I used to.” He turned to face Himchan. “But I didn’t sign up for forever. You knew that.”

Youngjae could hear Jongup’s heavy breaths. Was he running? There was no way he’d reach them in time. He couldn’t rely on Jongup saving them.

His dart scratched the tip of his pointer finger, and Youngjae saw his chance. Daehyun stood close – closer than the dartboard, and with how desperate of a situation he’d entered, Daehyun’s face wasn’t all that different from it, and his eye even looked like a bullseye.

He managed a final deep breath before he snapped into action. Youngjae had considered throwing a dart at someone before, and truth be told, he'd always thought it would feel totally different. In practice, the motion felt simple and clean as always, the dart leaving his fingers and plunging into its target. 

Youngjae got a glimpse of his broken dart sticking in Daehyun’s eye, but he never heard Daehyun’s scream. Pain ripped through him, overwhelming him and physically throwing him back. The collision with the concrete hurt more than expected considering how the pain seemed to stop everything around him. His head bounced against the floor, and his vision swirled, his mouth open and choking for air.

Youngjae could see the bullets firing from above him, knew the police and the others had begun to battle, but no sound reached him, drowned out by the all-encompassing pain. Youngjae couldn’t breathe, the air caught in his chest. He needed to cough, but nothing would go in and out of his lungs.

He whimpered, the closest he got to air moving through him, and Jongup’s voice reached him. _“Youngjae? Youngjae! What happened? What’s happening?”_ As though his voice shattered the glass, sound began to return to him, coming first in the form of his heartbeat in his ears, then his own harsh breathing. His hands shook against the ground, and each gunshot sent him reeling, as though every single one hit him, even though he didn't move much, his muscles twitching on the ground.

What had he learned? What should he do? He didn’t have a weapon on him, and looking around, he didn’t dare move too much. As it was, he slid back, hardly able to lift his body, his hands slipping on what he didn't dare look at on the floor, until he could lean against a pillar. At least this way, he could see people coming. 

But what to do? Despite everything, it was Daehyun’s words which came to him, more real than Jongup screaming in his ear.

Cover yourself in blood. Pretend like it killed you. Then they won’t finish the job.

It took a couple seconds for him to remember how to move his arm. His head buzzed, and his vision had grown blurry. Youngjae shook his head, and it got a little better. He needed to do this. Right. Blood. He needed to protect himself. Dropping his eyes to his own body, he registered the torn fabric before he saw the blood. Right. The hot liquid stuck his shirt to his body. He felt it now he saw it. 

He wanted to raise a hand, but it didn’t listen, only twitching. Youngjae flopped his head over to frown at it, not understanding. Oh. More blood. It coated his arm and dripped off his fingertips.

It also hurt, but everything hurt, so he hadn’t thought much about that. Youngjae managed a weak cough, finally forcing air out, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He opened it as the smell hit his nose, and some dribbled from between his lips.

Youngjae moved the other hand, and it listened. He tried to smile at the success, as he brought it first to his side, until red painted his fingers. Jesus. A lot of red on his fingers. It took several seconds to raise it to neck height, but he managed to paint with it, leaving a smear of his own blood down his neck.

Youngjae reached down again, brought up more blood. Halfway through painting it, his head lolled sideways. From the new angle, he could see Yongguk and Junhong, near back-to-back. 

Defending each other. Good. That was good.

Youngjae didn’t want them to die. He didn’t want anyone to die.

Except, they were trapped in the corner. Stuck with nothing to hide behind, just like Daehyun said to avoid. But they knew what to do.

Gunshots continued – closer, closer, forcing them backward and more towards the wall.

Youngjae saw the whites of Junhong’s eyes as he shot a desperate look at Yongguk. His leader could save him, right? Yongguk had saved him before.

They’d all save Junhong if they could.

But when they got trapped, nowhere to go, nowhere to run, it wasn’t Yongguk who protected Junhong.

The gun fired, and Youngjae wished he could watch in slow motion because one second Yongguk was holding a hand up for Junhong to stay behind him, then the next Junhong stood in front and then didn’t stand at all. Youngjae's mouth fell open, and he blinked once or twice, ignoring the weight of his eyelids. His head swam, and maybe that was why he hadn't seen what happened?

Junhong wasn't moving, sprawled forward on the ground. Yongguk fell over him, but there was no time to mourn him. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Youngjae swore he saw the future in that second because he saw what was coming in the moment before it happened. Yongguk fell limp, still halfway over Junhong’s body. Blood spilled from the top of his head, running off him and onto Junhong until Youngjae couldn't recognize either of them anymore.

The gunshots slowed, but he still didn’t know what happened to Himchan, to the other officers. He whimpered, sudden fear flushing through him, and he dropped his eyes shut, slumping to the side, pretending he had died. Just like Yongguk and Junhong had and probably Himchan had. Youngjae hadn't seen him since the gunshots began.

 _“Youngjae!”_ Jongup’s voice sounded terrified, spurned on by his whimper. _“What happened? Are you okay? Hold on; I'm on my way.”_ It was the first real words Jongup had said since he'd gotten shot.

Youngjae thought about answering the questions, but when he opened his mouth to form words, more blood spilled out of it. He began to cough, spitting up a little more and gasping in weak, wet breaths. In the silence, someone shifted, a loud breath signaling their efforts. 

Youngjae held back a whimper, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the pillar. He had no chance of getting away. Youngjae couldn’t feel his legs anymore, and his arms tingled, fingers occasionally twitching but doing no more. He didn’t dare look down at his body. The blood had to cover him by now, and he didn’t want to see it.

It took everything in him to stay still and quiet as someone groaned. Maybe Himchan? Youngjae hoped so. Jongup continued to call him, his voice loud and only adding to the buzzing in Youngjae’s head. He wanted him to stop. It hurt. 

The sounds - off-balance stumbles and gasps of pain - echoed through the warehouse. Youngjae played dead, hoping he had enough blood on him for it to look realistic. Considering he was pretty certain he was actually dying, he figured he must look pretty dead.

The stumbles came to a stop, and Youngjae allowed himself to relax a minuscule amount, letting out a small, shaky exhale. 

Hot breath hit his face, and Youngjae barely suppressed a whimper. “I know you’re awake.” Youngjae opened heavy eyes, but his whole vision had gone blurry. Mouth slightly open and blood trailing onto his chin, he blinked until it focused. “I taught you that.”

From one eye, Daehyun cried salty tears. They ran down his face and dripped into his slightly open mouth, which took loud breaths that still struck Youngjae’s cheek, warm and somehow heavy. He leaned back, and Youngjae saw he cried a stream of blood from the other eye. 

His dart stuck straight out of it, so familiar Youngjae’s hand twitched as though it could raise and repossess it. Daehyun had no eye anymore; he barely had that half of his face anymore. The blood covered it. He hadn't bothered to wipe the blood off, but he raised a shaky, uncoordinated hand to Youngjae's neck and ran his fingers over the wet skin. When he brought it back, his entire palm looked red.

He wiped his hand on his shirt, then used his arm to wipe his own face, clearing the blood away from his mouth and nose. More blood dripped down Daehyun’s red-stained face, leaving tracks down his cheek as though to masquerade as tears. Real tears dripped down his other cheek, but he didn't bother to wipe them off.

"How could you do this?" His hand found the collar of Youngjae's shirt and tightened in it. Youngjae struggled to keep his head up and his eyes focused. His ears rang, and Daehyun's voice came from far away. 

When he didn't answer, Daehyun snarled. Blood ran over his lips and stained his teeth, but he didn’t seem to notice. The snarl showed off a lot of teeth, just like his smile. In fact, they looked weirdly similar. Youngjae didn’t like it. 

He braced himself for more pain, knowing he couldn’t move his numbing body out of the way, especially not with how fuzzy his sight had become.

“You ruined it,” Daehyun said. His lips trembled. When he pressed them together, a drop of blood ran from the corner. “You ruined everything.” 

His hand shoved against Youngjae's chest, and he nearly lost his balance. The tears ran faster, his good eye bloodshot and swollen. Youngjae could barely see him over the fuzz in his vision. His head spun, and he blinked slow to focus, but it wasn’t working anymore.

“It’s over,” Daehyun said, his voice scratchy. “Everyone’s dead. They’re all – they’re all – why did you do that?” Youngjae thought Jongup might be speaking in his ear, but he could barely make out Daehyun's words, let alone Jongup's. 

His hand slid from Youngjae’s shoulder to his neck. It trembled against his skin. Youngjae couldn’t feel his arms anymore. He tried to twitch his fingers, but they didn’t work.

Daehyun opened his mouth to say something but sobbed instead. He didn’t try to speak again. Raising his other hand to Youngjae’s neck, he started to apply a slow pressure.

Youngjae managed to jerk one of his hands, but he got nowhere close to stopping Daehyun.

At first, his choking was loud. The last remnants of panic darted through him, and the sounds were sharp in the silence. Blood fell from Youngjae's lips, expelled with a strength he'd thought he'd lost already. He could barely hear the sounds he made, but that didn't matter.

It went silent all too quick, all the air blocked from reaching Youngjae’s lungs. His mouth dropped open but nothing went in or out, and his heart pounded in his chest. Tears ran from one of Daehyun’s eyes and blood from the other. 

Youngjae’s vision grew more and more blurry, until he no longer saw Daehyun. The edges of his vision looked dark and somehow inviting, calmer than the dull remaining colors.

Just as the black began to spread, something sent him sprawling to the side. He hit the concrete hard and got a glimpse of something almost recognizable before the darkness overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only got the last chapter/epilogue-ish left!


	24. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongup's footsteps echoed, but his voice only sounded once. Desperate. His own words were babbling, all swirled together and incomprehensible, and he strained for an answer, strained for Youngjae’s voice over his fast steps and broken gasps.
> 
> Youngjae didn’t answer.

The rooms all looked the same. It was a classic storage building, complete with large areas filled with metal pillars to support the high roof and held up by cracked concrete walls. Every room – Jongup’s eyes flickered through them as he burst through, throwing doors open and letting them slam.

His footsteps echoed, but his voice only sounded once. Desperate. His own words were babbling, all swirled together and incomprehensible, and he strained for a response, strained for Youngjae’s voice over his fast steps and broken gasps.

Youngjae didn’t answer. 

Jongup turned the corner, barged through another doorway, and stumbled to a stop. His eyes widened, and he half-lifted his pistol, but he didn’t have an enemy to shoot. Blood. It spilled over the floor, so close Jongup had almost stepped in it.

His eyes jumped ahead, and his feet followed. They condemned him to stumble, weak and uncoordinated, as his eyes found the bodies. The police. Youngjae said Daehyun betrayed them to the police.

Himchan laid on the floor, his back unmarked but a widening red sea beneath him. 

No.

Jongup’s vision wavered, and he staggered forward. Himchan was dead. Everyone – everyone. He spun around, his vision going grainy as he moved at a faster frame than his mind could comprehend. Bodies. More bodies. He didn’t care about any of those; they didn’t matter. 

Police. Daehyun betrayed them to the police. 

The air burned his skin, turned poisonous by the heaviness of what closed in on him. Jongup’s eyes burned, sweat trickling down his face and shaking with pesky adrenaline. Sharp, jittery motions took him further into the room, controlled only by his legs, not his flat-lined mind.

Daehyun killed them. He killed everyone. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jongup spun around to survey everything, and more words spilled from his lips. He didn’t even know what he was saying; he couldn't even hear himself.

Maybe Youngjae was answering and Jongup just couldn’t hear him. Maybe Youngjae had gone into the other room and was hiding and safe and –

His eyes caught on two bodies sprawled over each other, and his legs tangled together. Jongup smacked his hand against a pillar to keep upright. 

He ripped his eyes off them. There was too much blood. Jongup couldn’t be sure who they were. It didn’t matter how long Junhong's legs were and how Yongguk had worn that same ancient leather jacket he always did.

They weren’t dead. They couldn’t be dead. 

Jongup’s eyes stuck on another figure – Daehyun, crouched with one knee on the ground, leaning forward with his hands around Youngjae’s neck.

It hit Jongup like a physical force, and he threw himself forward, footsteps echoing through the building. Daehyun turned at the last second, but he made no move to protect himself, rather leaving his hands on Youngjae’s neck.

Red flashed in front of his eyes as he collided with Daehyun, sending both of them crashing to the ground. Daehyun screamed as he struck it, and Jongup scrambled to his feet, raising his Glock and certain Daehyun would attack him.

Except he didn’t stand back up. Jongup’s hand slipped against the metal, forcing his eyes to jump to his grip on it.

Blood covered his hands, and a cold shiver trickled down his spine. Jongup stiffened and spun around to look at Youngjae. He'd seen the red on him when he tackled Daehyun, and now Jongup saw it running down Youngjae's arm and neck and chest. 

Dropping in front of him, he abandoned his pistol so he could grab Youngjae and lift him against the pillar. Blood flicked off him and onto Jongup as he moved him, striking his face. He didn’t bother to wipe it off.

“Youngjae?” His throat closed on his voice, making it sound strangled and so unfamiliar Jongup wasn’t even sure if it was him or not. Youngjae’s eyes were near closed, his head slumped forward. Smeared blood covered his neck, running down below the collar of his torn jacket. 

Jongup ignored it all in favor of searching for a pulse. The warmth of Youngjae’s skin burned Jongup's hand, and his own fast breaths filled his ears with cotton. He needed to keep Youngjae’s head stable with his other hand, but a weak, fast beat touched his fingers.

Jongup pressed his eyes shut, relief flooding through him. Youngjae was alive.

Everything would be okay. He was still alive. Thoughts of Himchan and Yongguk and Junhong tried to catch in his mind, but Jongup shoved them away. No. Not now. 

Youngjae was alive. Focus on Youngjae.

Except the more he calmed down, the louder Daehyun sounded behind him, all groans and small whimpers.

It was his fault. Daehyun had betrayed them. Jongup lurched back to his feet, leaving Youngjae slumped on the ground. He’d go back to him but now – now Daehyun was behind him, and he’d killed everyone.

The idea of Daehyun getting away without punishment for what he’d done filled his mind, and Jongup snarled. Daehyun curled into a ball at the sound, one hand hovering over his face and blood covering his neck and hair and shoulder. Jongup clenched his hands into fists.

Sweat ran into his eyes, and he shook his head so hard it sent a spike of pain through him. It didn’t stop the stinging. Daehyun raised his head as he approached, and Jongup stopped at the sight of his face.

The dart Youngjae had taken from Eunsook’s board stuck in his eye, piercing through Daehyun's eyelid and driving deep into the eye socket.

_You know that’ll never kill anyone, right?_

Jongup couldn’t take his eyes off it, not even as Daehyun stood to face him. Every part of Daehyun shook, and he moved like someone unused to their legs. He forgot his gun on the ground. Pity. Jongup had hoped for a good fight before he killed him.

Daehyun had gone pale from the pain, accentuating black bruises smudged under his eyes. Other than that, his expression revealed nothing. When he took a breath to speak, the rage rushing through Jongup ignited like gasoline, spiking up and exploding. Daehyun had always been so good at relieving suspicions with clever words and stupid promises and false loyalty. This time he wouldn't.

Not now. Never again.

Jongup lunged forward and grabbed Daehyun. His hands tightened around his shoulders and threw him backward.

Daehyun stumbled, only catching himself against the cracked concrete wall, and Jongup pursued him. He slammed his back against it, reveling in Daehyun’s small, pained cry as his head smacked rock. 

Jongup let his lips turn up into a smile as Daehyun’s weak hands cupped over his arms, nails digging into his skin.

Arms slippery with sweat, Jongup gritted his teeth as Daehyun left blood behind from his grip. Youngjae’s blood.

He pulled Daehyun off the wall again and threw him back into it. Daehyun groaned, his head dropping forward. 

“What did you do?” Jongup’s voice broke the sound of silence like a scream. “You killed – what did you do!”

Daehyun trembled too much to speak with that calm, steady voice that always set Jongup’s skin on fire. “You killed Hana.” His voice came out full of gasped breaths and pauses, until Jongup wanted to bash his head against the concrete again. “You knew this would happen.”

He gave into the urge and threw Daehyun sideways, watching him crumble to the ground and cried out as the move jostled the dart in his eye.

Jongup hadn’t ever heard Daehyun in pain before. It sounded sharp, ringing in his ears. It sounded good. 

Daehyun killed all of them. Everyone. 

Before he could stand on his own, Jongup crossed the distance and hauled him onto his feet. Daehyun couldn’t support his entire weight, blood smeared all across his face. He blinked uselessly to get it from his other eye.

“Fucking defend yourself,” Jongup said as Daehyun hung near limp from his arms. “Why aren’t you fighting me?”

“No point.” Daehyun’s good eye looked wide and almost innocent, blood staining his tear duct and making it water. “It’s over.”

He didn't understand. “Because you know I’ll kill you for this.” Jongup pushed Daehyun back against the wall and raised a hand to his throat. Tears ran down Daehyun's face from his bloodshot, swollen eye. 

Daehyun swallowed, not out of fear or anticipation of Jongup’s threat, but in clear preparation to speak. Jongup’s hand hovered over his neck but didn't stop his words. “Everyone’s dead.” Daehyun’s gaze dropped from Jongup’s face, looking past him at something. 

Jongup growled and raised his head back to look back at him. “It’s your fault.”

“Is it?” Daehyun coughed, spit and blood spewing from his mouth and speckling Jongup’s face. “You killed Hana. Youngjae started it.” 

Hearing Daehyun say Youngjae’s name made his vision go red, redder than all the browning, drying blood on Daehyun's cheeks. The back of his hand collided with Daehyun’s face. He groaned, clenching his good eye shut.

“I’m going to kill you for this. Slowly.” Jongup didn’t care whether Daehyun had recovered enough to pay attention to his words or not, but he wanted to see his eye.

Daehyun deserved to be terrified like – like Youngjae was, right now. Terrified like Junhong must have been, so fucking young and having to watch the police as Daehyun betrayed them.

Jongup had warned them, had warned them and they didn’t listen, and – and – 

He used his grip on Daehyun to slam his against the wall and throw him to the ground once more.

Daehyun screamed as he landed hard on his side, a piercing noise which made Jongup's heart lunge in his chest.

Before Daehyun looked up, Jongup kicked him in the ribs. He spluttered, any words he’d wanted to say replaced by coughs and gasps. Daehyun curled up on the ground, and Jongup got a view of the arm he’d used to brace himself as he fell.

It didn’t bleed, but the bone pointed two different directions. Good. Daehyun deserved the pain. 

He killed them. All of them. Except – except Youngjae and maybe Junhong was okay and – they couldn’t all be dead. Jongup shook his head to free himself from the thoughts, ignoring the familiar shock of pain brought by the action.

“I’ll keep you here for days.” Jongup loomed over him, eyes wide as Daehyun regained his breath. “I won’t let you die. You’re going to fucking suffer.”

Daehyun met his eyes once again, and the lack of fear made Jongup clench his fists. The urge to shoot Daehyun was growing greater, but he pushed it down by taking deep breaths and tilting his chin up to look at the high ceiling. Jongup didn’t want Daehyun to die quickly.

A weird sound caught his attention, and he furrowed his brow as he looked back down. 

Daehyun was laughing, a gasping, awful noise which left him in small hiccups. He smiled, bright teeth gleaming as they caught the light. “You don’t have time.” The words just barely managed to escape him, but the laughter continued. “The police.” He spat blood on the ground.

“So you’re trying to stay alive until then?” Jongup glanced around as though the police hid behind the pillars surrounding them. “You shouldn’t’ve told me they were coming.”

Daehyun started to drag himself to his feet, watching Jongup through a narrowed eye. His broken arm dangled by his side, and his face had paled to a sickly gray, sweat gleaming on his forehead. 

He managed to find his legs, spitting more blood onto the ground as he wheezed, his good arm cupping his ribs. “I don’t care about me. It’s over.” 

“You’re giving up?” Now Jongup laughed, a biting, hysterical sound, unable to believe Daehyun. “You betray us and – and do this, and then you say that like you have any right…” He trailed off when Daehyun let his eyes drop, hardly even paying attention. “Look at me! Why – why did you do this?”

“You did.” Daehyun’s eye rose to him again, gleaming with fire. Still no fear, only fury. “And Youngjae. I didn’t want them to die.”

“But you still got them killed.”

Daehyun shook his head and coughed again. He swayed on his feet. “You did.” Before he finished speaking, he crumpled. Jongup lunged forward and grabbed him, nearly falling over as he tried to support Daehyun’s limp weight.

He threw Daehyun to the side, letting him strike one of the metal columns and collapse. Jongup left him there. Daehyun wouldn’t try to stand again. 

Jongup had never picked up his gun from where he’d left it by Youngjae’s side, but Daehyun’s was closer.

He picked it up, felt its weight in his hand. The last time he’d held it was over two years ago, when he’d handed it to Daehyun, but it was the same make and model of his own, a Glock Seventeen. 

Daehyun had killed everyone, and now he refused to even try to defend himself. They’d both known from the moment Jongup entered that Daehyun wouldn’t get away, not since Youngjae threw Jongup’s dart into his eye. 

But he had expected a fight. His head swirled with the realization that Daehyun had caused so much in some horrible, meaningless thing Jongup didn't understand.

He didn't have to understand it. Jongup knew what it meant. Daehyun was weak. So fucking weak and stupid and capable of betrayal in a way that could only be called despicable.

Jongup turned back to Daehyun, finding that he’d dragged himself into an almost sitting position, propped up by the pillar. He crossed the distance between them, Daehyun’s pistol in-hand. “You’re wrong.”

So much piled in his head, but nothing would translate to his voice. He could barely speak, light-headed as he stared down at Daehyun before sinking to the ground in front of him. 

“You’re wrong.” He repeated the words as though they were the only ones he knew. “And – and Youngjae’s alive.”

Daehyun did the horrible laughing thing again, this time even weaker. He shook his head before leaning to one side as a racking cough raced through him, leaving him gasping and blood dripping from his lips. “Bet you –” He cleared his throat when his voice came out cracked and hardly there, “ – could’ve saved him, if you’d done that ‘stead of attack me.”

Jongup threw a glance back at Youngjae, his eyes widening at how much the blood had spread. No.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“It’s over,” Daehyun said. He leaned his head back against the pillar and closed his eyes. “Do it.”

“You – you should be – you should be –” Jongup didn’t know what he wanted, but it wasn’t this. Daehyun should be pleading him for his life, should be in pain and begging.

He should be apologizing for what he did and trying - failing - to save his own skin, not acting as though he’d never done it. 

Daehyun didn’t bother to answer him. Trembling as though he were the one dying, Jongup raised Daehyun’s gun and rested the barrel against his throat.

His hand froze, and he waited, not even sure how to pull the trigger. Nothing moved. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

In the distance, a police siren sounded, and Jongup jumped, jerking as he realized they must be on their way here. His hand seized on his gun and he pressed the trigger. 

The force of the bullet tore Daehyun’s neck apart, splattering blood and skin and muscle everywhere. Daehyun lurched to the side, and the pillar still supported him, but his head rolled forward no longer able to hold itself up.

He made a choked sound, spasming a couple times before falling still. His limbs jerked once, reflexes moving without his conscious control. And then he fell still.

Jongup did it. He killed him.

Other than the siren in the distance, nothing moved. 

He waited for the pleasure he always associated with the rush of killing someone to come. For years he’d wanted to kill Daehyun, knowing he’d pull something like this, and now he'd done it.

Shouldn’t it feel good?

He’d avenged everyone he loved.

It should feel good. Except Jongup's head buzzed, and his chest ached. His breaths wheezed out of him, and something heavy sat on his lungs.

Jongup raised Daehyun’s chin to stare into his face. He had a burn on his cheek from the gunshot, and the dart still stuck out of his eye. The other had dropped shut as though he only slept, and his jaw opened, all tension gone. Jongup could still see the tear tracks on his cheek, and the blood had hardened on his other.

Without thinking, he reached for his dart and grasped the tail of it, trying to pull it out. Daehyun’s entire body moved with it, and Jongup frowned, moving a hand to his chest to hold it back. He pulled again, but his hand slipped off, sweat and blood slicking his grip.

The sirens broke through his awareness again, and he stumbled back. He had to leave it. Jongup turned to Youngjae, biting down on his cheek until his skin split at the state of him.

His eyes had also drooped shut, scattered red dots marring the skin of his face. 

Those always appeared after someone got strangled. Youngjae had a lot. They speckled the bruises under his eyes and wrapped up around by his nose. A couple ran across his cheek, stretching along the lingering scar Jongup had given him when they’d first met.

The red marks around his throat had begun to grow even darker, and Jongup made out two thumbprints on the front. He wiped some of the blood off him.

Youngjae’s skin seemed clammy under his hands and colder than it should’ve been. His jaw had also dropped open, and when Jongup pulled up an eyelid, Youngjae’s bloodshot, dilated eye made him flinch.

He found no pulse.

Jongup had taken too much time. Daehyun was right.

Tears ran unprompted, streaming down his face, and his breath stuttered. He leaned closer to Youngjae, one hand grabbing his hair and tightening until it had to hurt. His other hand covered his face so he didn't have to see, but he couldn't help but peek through his fingers. Everything smelled vile, a scent Jongup had grown accustomed to long before but which now strangled him and brought bile rising in his throat.

The smell overtook him, and he stumbled to his feet. One hand grabbed his own jacket, squeezing as though he needed something to anchor him, and he slipped Daehyun’s pistol into his belt. He should get his own, but Jongup still struggled to stifle the nausea in his stomach. He couldn't look at Youngjae again, so he didn't, leaving him at rest against the pillar.

Nothing moved. Nothing made any sound. His footsteps echoed on the floor. 

Jongup spotted the two bodies sprawled on top of each other, and even when he decided to look the other way, his feet carried him to them. He pressed his hand against his mouth, his knees weakening as it became more and more undeniable that they were Junhong and Yongguk. 

Junhong had sprawled out onto his stomach, and Jongup found one of his hands, pulling it closer to him. His body offered no resistance, not even when Jongup twisted his arm into an angle which should’ve been painful.

Jongup couldn’t look over the rest of him, only staring at his clean hand as though he could read the lines on it and determine his fate. He placed his own over it.

Junhong’s hand was softer than his but not too much bigger. Jongup clenched his fingers around it, holding it tighter and tighter as though if he continued, Junhong would eventually grab back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen; Junhong was the one Jongup had to save. He had to protect him from Sihwan and keep him off the streets.

Years ago, Jongup promised he’d never let him die, and now – now Junhong was dead.

Jongup dropped his hand like it burned him, raising his eyes to look at Yongguk.

His mind recreated the scene as his eyes stuck like glue to the bullet hole in Yongguk’s head. Junhong had fallen first, and Yongguk mourned him, forgetting all about his gun, which laid a couple feet away.

Of course he dropped it once Junhong fell. Jongup gritted his teeth as something built up in his chest. A scream? A cry? He didn’t know, but he didn’t dare break the complete silence.

He had to go. Still, the sirens sounded. He couldn’t wait any longer. Despite the continuous buzzing in his head, he rose to his feet, moving like his legs had fallen numb. 

Did it really matter if he left? Jongup still had Daehyun’s pistol and more cartridges in his pockets. He could wait for the police and make them pay for everything Daehyun had done.

Already, Daehyun had faced fate for his actions. The police had as well, though Jongup hadn’t dealt it. He moved towards the doorway, casting an unsure glance behind him before he spotted Himchan’s body.

Oh.

This time, his knees buckled, and he crashed to the ground, slamming into the concrete. He dragged his body the last few feet, leaning over to cup Himchan’s face in his hands. 

Himchan, who he’d nearly killed when they first met. Himchan, who’d dedicated his life to caring for them.

He pulled him closer, weak arms straining to move his limp body. Blood seeped into his pants as he hugged Himchan close, the same way Jongup had only hours ago.

This time, Himchan’s arms didn’t wrap around him, and Jongup’s jaw trembled, his breaths becoming broken and shaky. He put his chin over Himchan’s shoulder, his other hand supporting his head and keeping it from falling limp.

With Himchan held still in his arms, he could almost imagine he was still alive. 

It wasn’t until breath tickled his ear and brushed against his hair that he moved. Jongup flinched, nearly dropping him as he scrambled to lay him back down. “Himchan, can you hear me? Himchan?” No answer. 

Jongup pressed his fingers against his neck, and a fluttering pulse answered his prayers. He looked around, desperate for something to help him. The police siren sounded much too loud now, and Jongup couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

"Himchan? Hyung?" Himchan’s blood had soaked into his jeans until they became saturated, more pooling on top of them. So much blood. Jongup ripped Himchan’s shirt open, but the mess his chest had become only further proved he couldn’t do anything. 

At least six bullets, all in bad places. Jongup had watched too many people die, and he had no doubt what would happen – Himchan was dying, and the police were coming.

He had to stay. Jongup couldn’t save Himchan but leaving him? That would never happen, not in a million years. He shook his head as though he had to prove that to someone, as though someone was still there to watch him.

It didn’t matter what happened to him. Jongup pulled Himchan back into his arms, relaxing as the barest of gasped breaths hit his ear. He closed his eyes, mumbling soothing words and promising him everything was okay.

Himchan had spent years taking care of him. Jongup couldn’t leave him, not now, not ever.

He’d emulated Himchan with Junhong, wanting to protect him and keep him safe like Himchan managed so effortlessly with him and Yongguk and everyone he cared about. 

Jongup failed, but Himchan – Himchan never failed, and he refused to let him go and make him die alone. Yongguk was their leader. He'd started it all and chose the targets, and they followed him. But Jongup had known almost from the first day he'd met them that there was no Yongguk without Himchan. 

They wouldn't have made it five minutes without him. Jongup wouldn't make it any further now.

His own trembling and slight sobs jarred Himchan, and his head shook, swinging into Jongup’s neck and back as though he were protesting. 

Jongup’s body burned with what had happened, and exhaustion pulled at his every muscle. He tried to ignore everything, but Himchan’s pseudo-communication made him think.

What would Himchan say, if he could speak? Was he aware of Jongup’s presence as he died? He wanted to comfort him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said, as though Himchan was scared or making noise or anything. “You’re okay, and I’m okay. That’s what you always wanted: you wanted us all okay, and I’m okay. Everyone’s fine; you just relax. It’s okay.”

Himchan didn’t answer, not even when hot tears streaked down Jongup’s face and dripped onto his back. The first mingled with the blood there, and more tears followed, until Jongup lost track of the number.

“You would want me to run right now,” he said, the words mumbled through numb lips. “I know you would. Is that why you’re sh -shaking your head?” Himchan couldn’t hear him. Most likely. Maybe. He didn’t know.

But he definitely couldn’t control his head. Himchan wasn’t talking to him, but Jongup swore he moved in his arms. “Do you really want me to go?”

His hands tightened around Himchan, digging his nails into his skin. “Please don’t make me go.” His voice was a scratchy whisper, his heart sinking and dying in his chest.

No answer. 

But he knew the answer.

He forced his eyes open and laid him down onto his back.

Himchan wouldn’t want him to die. He’d want him to leave and outrun the police. Jongup stumbled to his feet. 

Time blurred as he slipped Daehyun’s pistol into his hands. His eyes ran over doorways, searching for police, but when he exited the building, nothing but the darkness and the thick, falling snow greeted him. Jongup shivered but forced himself into it, tucking the Glock back into his belt. 

He made it out, but where to go? 

Daehyun had betrayed them, that meant the police had everything on them. They had the apartment and Eunsook’s buildings and probably Himchan’s property too. He had nowhere to go.

But Jongup couldn’t stay there. With a deep breath of air so cold it burned his lungs, he moved forward, beginning to walk. 

The snow fell in heavy, thick flakes, quickly soaking through his clothes. He shivered, his teeth chattering. Jongup needed somewhere out of the snow, or he wouldn’t make it far. The blood on him turned to ice.

He rubbed his hands together as his hair plastered to his forehead. Squinting through the alleys, Jongup tried to recognize anything around him. He hadn’t been in this part of the city in a while, not since Himchan had banned him from entering Sihwan’s territory.

If any of Sihwan's gang found him here, they'd kill him. They had to know what was happening. Then again, he had no one to worry about anymore. Maybe he could search Sihwan out and take as many of his fuckers down as he could. The thought lifted one side of Jongup’s numb lips and propelled him forward.

It would be okay. He could just – could just – 

The options faded away the more he thought about them.

Could what? He could bait the police and shoot them until they kill him. He could hunt Sihwan down and hope to shoot him before his goons managed to take him out.

All the options ended with Jongup dying.

He’d gotten everyone he loved killed.

Jongup had let them die. Daehyun had betrayed them and because he hadn’t killed Daehyun earlier, they all died.

Youngjae had died.

Jongup could still feel him, like a ghost, trailing his fingers over his skin. He always moved with such hesitation – Jongup shivered, this time not from the cold, but from the spirits of Youngjae’s fingertips tracing up his arms.

If he strained, he could almost feel the warmth of Youngjae's hands breaking through the cold which burned him like fire.

Jongup bit his lip until he tasted blood, shaking his head until Youngjae disappeared. He had to keep walking. If he gave up now, he’d die.

Running a bare, gray hand through his hair and making the icy water run down his neck and spine, Jongup continued on. He needed a way out of the snow.

The wind picked up, tugging at his clothes and stealing the breath from his lungs. He turned a corner and came to a large, green dumpster, the first possible place to stop he’d seen since he’d started walking. 

His legs near buckling under him, he managed to bend over and scoot until he was behind it. The protection did nothing for the cold, but it kept the snow away, and that was enough. Jongup pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, covering one set of frozen fingers with the other.

He lowered his head, closing his eyes and licking his lips to warm them. 

Out of the snow. Good. But where to from here? Jongup didn’t know the answer to that, not yet.

He had let them all die. Everyone was dead. The police knew their names and probably more and Jongup had nowhere to go.

He pressed his lips against his knee to hide a sob, tears running from his eyes and adding to the water and blood saturating his clothes. The muscles in his neck and shoulder seized, leaving him hunched over until his back ached, unwilling to fight them.

“It’s over.” The words fell from his lips in little gasps, exploding from his constricted lungs of their own volition. He couldn’t stop more from coming out. “They’re dead, and everyone’s dead, and it’s over.”

Daehyun was right. Everything that happened was Jongup's fault. Long before Youngjae had joined, he'd gotten suspicious of Daehyun, but he'd done nothing. Now look what happened.

This was all his fault.

Except - Himchan had trusted Daehyun. He'd trusted him so much that when Daehyun ran into him, gun-drawn, Himchan had let him go. He was always right. Always. So what did that mean? Jongup huffed, pressing both hands against his head to try and dull the pain rocketing through it. His head hadn't hurt this bad in over two weeks. He couldn't fucking think through it.

Water dripped from his hair as he shook his head, flinging against the already wet metal of the dumpster. It smelled awful, all trash and rotting food, and Jongup even had something questionably slimy on his right side, which he could barely make out in the darkness left over from the streetlights.

He only trembled harder, looking up to see large icicles hanging off the dumpster. Jongup had no concept of how much time passed. It could’ve been hours or minutes. With the cloudy sky, he couldn’t even tell if the moon had risen yet. 

His phone. Right. He dug through his pocket, pulling it out and turning it on. The bright light blinded him, and the green on-going call screen flashed up at him.

The call. With Youngjae. The one supposed to keep them both informed and safe and which did absolutely nothing because Jongup couldn't get to them in time.

As he stared at it, the phone died, its screen going black.

He dropped it, not caring anymore. It hit the ground with a thump, and he blinked through the darkness until the muddy purple-green splotches in his vision disappeared.

Everything moved slower now. His ears and fingers and toes burned with the cold, and he clasped his hands together, but it did little good.

Not that it mattered. He had nowhere to go anyway. Jongup wasn’t stupid. He knew if he stayed out until morning, soaked to the bone and stuck in the snow, he’d never survive.

But why did it matter anymore?

He’d spent the last four years trailing after Junhong or Yongguk and Himchan.

For the past several months, he'd trained Youngjae on how to survive, and he spent the last weeks figuring out just how much Youngjae meant to him.

Now it was over. All of it. Nothing mattered anymore because Jongup let them all die.

He might as well let himself die too.

Jongup once saw a fourteen-year-old kid curled up in the snow and carried him out of it. Today he got that kid killed, despite doing everything he could to prevent it. 

Even when Junhong demanded - demanded, when he normally rolled with Jongup's decisions - what he'd done to Daehyun, Jongup had stayed quiet. He did it to keep them safe - except no, he hadn't. Jongup had done it because he'd watched Junhong get closer with Daehyun, and he couldn't bear to lose Junhong again.

Now he'd really lost him.

Junhong would want him to stay. Out of all of them, Jongup had betrayed him the most. He had only hurt him – he’d hurt him over and over until Junhong wanted Sihwan and Daehyun instead of him.

Jongup had been second best and second choice, and Junhong would prefer him to stay out here and die since he’d failed to do the one thing he’d always promised.

_I’ll keep you safe._

The words were seared into his brain from how often he’d said them. When Junhong had panic attacks and grew terrified that someone would come and steal him back, Jongup had promised over and over and over.

“I’ll keep you safe.” His lips didn't move right anymore, and he was unsure if the words even sounded okay. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Junhong would never forgive him if he didn’t get out of the cold. He’d do that thing Jongup had always hated: that pout and the glistening, big eyes thing.

Jongup had to keep going. It didn’t matter that his shivering had all but ended, that his body grew stiff and weak.

He couldn’t stop, not now.

Junhong would hate him if he did, and he'd killed Junhong but he couldn’t make him hate Jongup.

But where to go? He had nowhere to go.

The only building in walking distance was Eunsook’s warehouse, where he had taught Youngjae a little defense.

Where he’d started what ended with Youngjae throwing a dart through Daehyun’s eye.

Jongup couldn’t help but smile at the thought, even as pain buried him worse than the heavy blanket of exhaustion creeping through his body. He’d never expected much from Youngjae, and when Youngjae had bought their lies as absolutes, Jongup had rolled his eyes and waited for him to fail.

He’d shown Youngjae a dartboard and made up a ridiculous story, and Youngjae had done it.

Through sheer force of will, he’d taken what Jongup had done only to laugh at him and figured it out.

And now he threw a dart through Daehyun’s eye. One of the Eunsook’s darts.

Jongup had been pissed when he’d taken it – one of the last mementos he had from his brother – but he’d let it slide, curious about what would happen if Youngjae tried to throw it.

Youngjae didn’t disappoint. 

He closed his eyes, letting memories scroll through his mind. A small smile filled his face, his arms tight around his knees and warmth starting to slide through him.

It crumbled as he recalled their conversation while Daehyun waited for Hana. He’d been so convinced there would never be an “after” for him, not in the sense where he’d survive the others.

_My brother lives around here. Maybe one day I’ll stop by._

He forced his body into moving, eyes blinking slowly. Scrubbing a freezing hand over his face, he wiped away an almost icy tear which had paused halfway down his cheek. Maybe he did have somewhere to go.

Everything ached. His muscles were tight with cold, and Jongup wanted to sit back down. He could barely walk so he leaned against the dumpster and stared up into the snow.

A flake hit him in the eye, and he rubbed it off with a clumsy, stiff finger. Unbidden, more memories of Youngjae came to mind. He'd looked so scared the night before, when Jongup had killed Hana. 

All he'd wanted to do was pull him into a hug and wait until he felt all right again, but Youngjae had panicked and ran away. If he would've just killed Daehyun that night, none of this would have happened. Youngjae had ruined that.

But maybe it never should've begun. The entire thing - kidnapping Daehyun's girlfriend, threatening him - what did he want to happen? Jongup wanted to kill Daehyun, wanted to keep everyone safe and fine and - 

He'd failed in every way possible.

Youngjae was right. Jongup never should've taken Hana. Not that he could do anything about it now.

Everyone was dead.

Forcing himself to support his entire weight and not rely on the dumpster to help, Jongup cleared the water off his face, trying to forget about how it dripped down his back. At least he didn't feel cold anymore, though his muscles tightened and could hardly support him. 

It didn't matter. Jongup had to keep going.

One foot in front of the other, one alley into another. He'd promised Youngjae that he would make it.

Jongup took a deep breath, soaked to the bone and half-frozen, and started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnd that's it!! Thank you to all those who stuck with me through this whole journey, and those who joined along the way! This is by far the best writing I've ever done, and the longest thing I've ever written so like... whoa? Also it's finished?? Wow. Anyway, feel free to come say hi on tumblr @ [onlystraightforjongup.](https://onlystraightforjongup.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also!! Check out this awesome [fanart](http://vai-should-be-quiet.tumblr.com/post/172080480768/first-appearances-and-first-lines-in-the-broken) and give them lots of love for it!! It's so amazing!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. I've done a ton of planning for this, so I'm super excited to get into it! I'm really working on improving as a writer, so any feedback really helps.
> 
> Find me on [ tumblr :) ](https://onlystraightforjongup.tumblr.com/)


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